#but also I have no nails to put my moogle on a wall

[whispering-jabberwocky]

I fucked up.

During Christmass I got sick with whooping cough. While I was unable to sleep, due to feaver, I was stricken with a thought:

"What a perfect time to order some nails. I have a picture to hang. Therefore I require nails. For my picture. What better time to order them than now, when I am sick and my mind is foggy."

And so I did. I picked up my phone and found a best deal for nails in online store. 1kg of shiny steel nails for 10zł (2,35€/2,40$). What a steal! I can put on so many pictures with them! Not only the one I plan to.

Time passes. It was Christmass, remember? The delivery would take time. Finally my nails are here. So I forget about them. My nails. For my picture. Because I still have whooping cough.

Several days later I am no longer so sick. And I remember my nails! For my picture! I open my package.

Fellas, let me tell you. I made a teeny tiny mistake while ordering them. My nails. My nails for the picture. That I now have 1kg of.

My shing, steel nails, that I ordered while I was sick and CLEARLY did no comprehand the lengh stated in mm. And that I have now 1kg of.

Do you laughed now? Does this amuse you? Well it should. However, do you know how they look next to the picture? The one I wanted to put on my wall and I needed nails for?

They are, in fact, bigger than it.

I fucked up.

[fistsoflightning]

1: the devoted and the dead

prompt: crux || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 3138 (ha ha HA WHY AM I LIKE THIS)

Taban travels to Eorzea in the wake of the Eighth Umbral Calamity expecting nothing but land and finds the organization devoted to saving their heroes instead.

Contains Shadowbringers spoilers concerning a major plot point that explains a major plot point from LVL 79 MSQ onwards!

Mor Dhona is a sight to behold, crafted in crystal spires that pierce the cloud cover and brilliant violet skies, the ruins of a centuries-old town and war scattered beneath the aether fog. The winds are quiet, but if she listens closely she can hear the remembered laughter and chatter of a lively place, filled with adventure and trade and hope . It is a sweet taste of something she has not had in a very long time.

It is also a reminder.

“We’re nearly to the Tower,” the man named Biggs says, voice muffled slightly by the mask pulled taught around his face, and she is reminded of the mask over her own nose, leather digging into the skin around her scales. “There isn’t much else to see here, otherwise, but it’s something compared to, well...” He waves his arms around to the crystals jutting out around them, and then to the dying plant life by her feet.

She nods, following close with her shepherd’s cane in hand when he turns back around. The bell jingles lightly every now and then as she stumbles over unfamiliar landscape.

After a few bells, the Tower is finally in sight, piercing the skies even further than the spires that had covered the walls on their trek to here, and her companion races forwards to call to four figures standing at the ledge, looking off into the distance.

“Cid,” Biggs calls, and the white-haired man turns to face the two of them. “I brought the missus from camp to see it; she kept waving her cane at me when I said it’d be too dangerous, so…”

Biggs sheepishly rubs the back of his head, and she has to physically remind herself not to whack him in the back with her cane like she used to with her husband—he wouldn’t understand the unspoken really now that came with it, anyhow.

Before Cid can speak, she thrusts her hand forward, a pendant with a glimmering indigo crystal in the palm of her hand. She knows he has seen it before; perhaps he has held it before. It matters not.

“I see,” Cid mumbles, and he looks like he thinks twice before continuing. “Are you certain? We’re not even sure if it’ll work, nor if they’ll be saved. Not the most well-thought out of plans, but if there’s even a sliver of hope…”

He turns, looking back towards the tower for a moment, and she wonders what could be so important about the Tower in the distance. What could have been so important that they left it alone until now?

“Of course I am,” she responds hoarsely, grasping the pendant tighter in her fist. The little lightning that arcs from it barely tickles her scales. “I have nothing else to lose.”

…

While Cid, Nero, and the remnants of what used to be Ironworks toil over the mechanics of opening the Tower’s doors, and then of what might be used to reverse the tides of Garlemald’s Black Rose, she finds herself falling unto old habits.

Namely, that of storytelling.

At first, it is solely for her own comfort; she lets swirls of smoke and ember come from her hands to make the Dawn Throne and Reunion, and sand for the people of her home. She doesn’t dare to use water—not when Silvertear Lake is polluted enough to make her sick and the little water they do have to drink cannot be tainted at all costs—but as the stifling feeling of snuffed aether fades from Mor Dhona she finds she doesn’t need to be in her element anyways.

But then, when she hears a quiet wish from the bedside of Cid Garlond, she finds herself reaching for her cane anyways.

It takes little effort to weave together a quiet night in Rhalgr’s Reach with the Warriors of Light as pieced together by Cid, Nero, and Biggs; a gentle retreat, after a long week spent fighting some alien and a few mishaps with their engineered tea kettle.

The joy she brings to their faces, no matter how disguised, is enough for her to bring her spellweaving to the rest of their little resistance camp. 

She starts working more and more on her less whimsical spells when Nero, too, falls ill, hands shaking as he finishes up the last mathematical proofs required to successfully prove Cid’s theory possible, with the right materials. One for healing—she saves a lost moogle once, and they continuously wander back and forth from places to bring her more tales—and one for more selfish reasons.

Time. She needs time, if she is going to memorialize anyone, any thing , and so she works until her left eye is milky white and the tips of her fingers are numb and she outlives her family even longer.

“There is a saying, among one of the tribes of my homeland,” she says, once, when asked why she would choose to live longer in a place like this. By then, she has already learned the languages she would have once spurned—not all books and scriptures come in easy to read script, after all. “That the soul burns brightest when it has a goal—formerly battle, but I know of a few Dotharl that have dedicated themselves to honoring their names with other pursuits. Mine is merely storytelling, and if it takes devoting more time than I have to give to keep telling, then I will.”

She can tell they still have questions for her, perhaps about the gentle sadness that carries in her words, but they do not ask, and for that she is grateful.

After she pulls together a sight of the famed Operation Archon one night—with gratuitous help from the few scholars still residing in the camp, including a small Lalafellian lady with a buttery yellow coat—

Eventually—maybe it is after she weaves the ending of the Dragonsong War from Count Edmont de Fortemps and Lord Commander Aymeric de Borel’s final memoirs, or perhaps upon recreating the charge on Ala Mhigo as recorded by the descendants of Resistance Fighters, desperate to see what their mothers and fathers fought for when all they know is bleak futures—people come calling her things like Hopekeeper and Dreamweaver in lieu of the name she has yet to give. In time, people come from farther away to bring her stories; ones of hope and adventure, mostly, but once she receives a tattered journal from another Xaela, of a dark knight, and she tells only him the tales held inside as a reminder of what he still fights for.

A little Xaela child—she does not know whose child, but she knows that he is Oronir, by the golden highlights and the little sun pendant around his neck—comes to her after her fiftieth year and thanks her.

“What for?” She kneels down to his height.

“Everything,” he says, so earnest it feels like true sunshine. “My parents came here ‘cause of you, and then we found this place! And now I can listen to tales of heroes instead of, well, y’know. You’re hope’s storyteller!”

He bounces excitedly on his heels, and she can’t help but laugh so bright her lungs are aching afterwards.She is little more than a sister dreaming of her siblings, a century dead and lost to the winds, but she smiles every time someone calls her hope’s storyteller afterwards anyways.

…

It is on the turn of the second century after the clouds of Black Rose fell upon Eorzea that Cid Garlond’s wildest theories are finally brought to fruition. The doors of the Tower fall open while she is asleep, and it is back to night when Biggs and his small crew return from the Tower announcing their plan is now in its final stages; that of creating the behemoth of an automaton that their founder theorized would make this all possible.

She seems to be the last one to meet the man of the hour, standing on the meager stage of haphazardly put together wood and nails so that she might create her stories around her, like a troupe making words come to life. His ears and tail are hidden under his robes, and he wrings his hands a bit nervously, but she can tell this man is much more important than he presents himself as, something bone-deep and aching as the memory of Cid’s bedside.

“Pray tell,” he starts, and everyone in the crowd turns to him. “Is there aught in your repertoire about the Warriors’ journey through that tower over yonder?” 

His smile is bright as she considers—perhaps for a bit too long, as it falters slightly when he pipes back up to say, “Forgive me for interrupting your, er, plans with my selfish request, but—”

“Nonsense,” she murmurs. “There is nothing too selfish here, and it happens that is a tale I’ve never told before.” She holds out her hand to the miqo’te, watching his ruby eyes flick up in surprise with his ears, even under the heavy woolen hood Biggs must have shoved him into before they’d left on their little pilgrimage. “Care to help me tell it, G’raha Tia?”

She holds out her hand to him, and the small yet eager crowd in front of her parts like the clouds to let him walk forward and take it.

…

G’raha’s hunger for knowledge spanning that two century long rest in that tower of his borders on voracious ; even when Biggs says he can stop, that he knows enough to fill in the gaps, he manages to wheedle his way into more and more danger looking for it. There is an incident, when making their way back from Ishgard with what books and memoirs they can carry, and while numerous people fall Biggs and G’raha make it back barely alive.

She cannot rightfully say she is any less hungry than he, but she can tell his hunger is all-consuming, possessed. He gets out of his sick bed earlier than even she could recommend, and there is not a day that goes by that G’raha spends outside—not that anyone could blame him, seeing as all he knew is dead and the land continues to die around them, but she finds books piling high in his tent.

When even Biggs turns aside one night, evidently tired of trying to convince him that what he needs will not be found in books, she steps forward to grasp his arm before he can relight his candle.

“Are you going to try and stop me, too?” He looks up to her, and the desperation in his eyes flickers with the dying candlelight.

“No,” she answers, but instead of letting his hand reach for the matchbox again she sticks a scepter into his palm. It glimmers pale gold, the foci a bit dulled but still usable. “I am going to help you.”

G’raha looks indignant at that. “I do not need—”

“If you want to die and never see a brighter future yourself, so be it. You may be devoted to this cause,” she says, quietly tightening her grip as he keeps resisting; he doesn’t seem to expect her strength. “But you will end up dead faster than them if you do not train.”

“I—” He starts, but he looks to the bandages covering his hands and then down to his lap.

It does not take much convincing after that.

…

There is precious few bells left before the Tycoon is set to make or break the future, and so she finds herself sprinting through camp with her journal held tight to her chest—the last one, because all the other tales and fables she had kept in her time have already been packed up and stored in the various rooms of the Crystal Tower, destined to bring hope to thousands of others.

(That is, if G’raha does not fail.)

Her feet carry her quickly across the uneven crystal leading to the Tower, and by the time the door is in sight she is panting madly, nearly tripping over her robes as she barrels into the main stairwell of the Tower.

Luckily, the man she was looking for is still here.

“My friend,” he says, ears flicked up in surprise. “What are you doing here!? The Tower is not a safe place for you to stay—”

“I have one last story to tell,” she admits, hand patting the heavy leather tome she holds to her chest. She’s still heaving, legs complaining, but it is nothing compared to the need to tell this one last tale. “A special one, at that. Would you care to listen?”

“Of course.” He sits haphazardly on one of the crates that are scattered about, and she walks—slower than usual, this time—to stand next to him. She sets the book by his side, the worn leather cover embossed and covered with vibrant paints, and it seems to catch his attention momentarily.

“My favorite memory,” she starts, aether coalescing slowly around her—she has grown weaker, in her two centuries of extended life, as the spell she’d uncovered could not save her from even the hallows of time, but it was enough for one more tale. Weaving the walls of her yurt are as simple as calling a burst of wind. “Has always been this, and I might think you’d find a bit of joy in it, too.”

It is a simple thing, to fill in the faces of these shades, frayed as her memory might be; the fuzzy pink lion had sat with his fairy next to the quiet elezen, sharing their plates as her own brother and sibling had sat opposite of them, quibbling over who would get their share of khuushur first. Then, the miqo’te red mage that she personally had seen time and time again when she had barely been knee-height and shyer than a mouse, sat next to the solemn knight who had stared as she’d kicked the little lord from their yurt—a measure of privacy, and peace, for someone so intent on twisting the Naadam for his own purposes even at the request of the Mol was not one even she had wanted to share buuz with. The roegadyn warrior with chef’s hands was with little Och and Qara in the back, excitedly telling them stories with the two miqo’te men who had both declined a place at the fire, more than content to watch the stars in mostly-quiet company. And then…

G’raha gasps next to her, watching as she weaves strands of starlight and motes of Mor Dhona’s violet skies together at the final place set by the cooking pit. She is quiet, but the moonlight that filters through the open flaps of the yurt swathes her in a luminous glow, and her face is near picture perfect to when she had actually sat in her sort-of extended family’s yurt. 

“She was my sibling’s fifth ‘almost-sister’, as they put it.” She stifles a giggle in her sleeve, dusty as it is. The shades move around the two of them, false fire creating a sense of warmth. “Back home, in the Steppe, it is uncommon that outsiders are accepted into another’s yurt for supper, especially should buuz be on the table. But my sibling…”

A flick of her hand has them a bit further in time, when she has offered her spellweaving talents to the menagerie of friends her sibling has gathered. 

“They did not trust easily, as I am sure you know,” she says, looking to G’raha and then to the images of the very tower they’d been preparing to send into the past for the last fortnight, formed in the embers of the cooking pit. “But the strength of this bond was worthy enough to share our mama’s specialty buuz with.” She points to them, now laid back on the mats and rugs of the yurt, quietly failing to fight off sleep. “I did not recognize them when they returned, at first, but by supper’s end I was certain this was still the same Zaya that had flew west on the back of their yol.”

She smiles when the memory skips to later, when the moon is high and every adventurer has fallen asleep haphazardly on the floor of the tent. “Happy as they may be on grand adventures,” she whispers, letting the strands of hope fray and unravel as her magic fades. “I have not seen them any more at peace than this moment.”

The memory ends quietly, in a burst of sunlight and moonglow, and as the motes of aether fizzle back into transparency G’raha slides off of the crate. He stays silent, for a few moments, still transfixed onto that one spot where his dearest ‘friend’, as Zaya had once put it, sat.

Only when she softly clears her throat does he turn to look her in the eyes, ruby eyes wild and hair just the slightest bit disheveled. He looks both terrible and determined at the same time, and she cannot decide whether she sees Zaya’s spirit or Oktai’s determination in his soul first.

“I…” he starts, eyes looking back down to his feet, wringing his hands like he did when she first met him. “I would ask your name, but I feel it would be improper to only do introductions when I am about to leave.”

Her quiet huff of laughter has his head snapping back up fast enough for her to hear the light crack of his neck. “Taban Qestir,” she says, bowing slightly. “Famed storyteller and well past her years.”

G’raha almost seems to puff up. “I—Is there anything—”

“No.” She has taught him all she could, all her stories told and her promises filled. After two centuries of outliving one’s family, she thinks there is nothing more she needs than to rest. “I’ve taken enough of your time, I would think.” 

It’s harder than she thought it would be to press the leather-bound journal from her first few years into his hands, knowing that all she remembers of her home is written into its pages, but she does it anyways. “Go on now, G’raha Tia. Your destiny awaits.” 

She smiles, then, just as mirthful as their sibling’s own smile, back when they were sitting around that cooking pit sharing their home and food with friends rather than a grave with them.

And as he turns to retreat further into the Tower that both robbed him of his future and can give him one anew, Taban thinks of Zaya, brilliant and bright and effervescent, and of their friends, their figures not as filled out in Taban’s memory than of them but just as lovely and bright all the same.

She remembers as she walks out of the Crystal Tower, and hopes that G’raha will remember his friends first before the vaunted heroes of the world he woke to.

[thevoilinauttheory]

FFXIVWrite2020 Prompt #12 - Tooth and Nail

Character(s): Raramlah Ramlah, Mateo [NPC] Setting: Ul’dah, The Bloodsands; Seventh Astral Era, some weeks before the Bloody Banquet What: They pity the fool who takes battle against them. Content Warnings: Graphic death and blood, allusions to suicide Author Notes: I took a risky assumption that Ul’dah has different types of gladiator fights - because between the meager (ACTUAL) gladiator lore from the quests, Halatali Hardmode, the Post-Moogle Quests, and the ARR Hildebrand questline; everything ends up a bit different. We know there’s fights that are to the death, but also showboating ones? Are they a bit of both? Are they two separate classes of fights, or do they just also implement flourish into the death ones?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ REGARDLESS. While I’ve been told otherwise, I am not so good at combat scenes; and this was a huge deviate from my original prompt - which ended up being the premise for Prompt #20; which kept it from being more detailed than it came out. --

The start to every bout was the battle of will, of the mind. Keep calm. They’d tell themselves. Show no emotion until the battle. This bout would be bloody, as all the others. To the death! The spectators cried. To the death. They didn’t have much to live for, the thrill of losing the grasp of control on fate, never knowing what would happen next. It kept them in a state of grief and anger, every fight reminding them of what they lost. If they won, they live another day and drink that day away. If they lost, well, good riddance, it was finally over.

They strode from the gates, facing an opponent three times their height - not that that was much taller than the average man - but the fight was in their favor. This opponent underestimates them. “Really! They pit me ‘gainst a half-pint like you? ‘N here I was, nervous ‘bout this one, sayin’ I was goin’ ‘gainst the best o’ the best.” Raramlah said nothing. Their stance was their answer. Still, sword and shield brandished, staring down the man in front of them. The lump that was swallowed in their opponent did not go unnoticed. The test of will. They had adorned themselves with face paint to aid in their appearance, more fierce and filled with rage. “From the left gate; the lucky newcomer, facing their opponents with strength and courage, Mateo, the Crimson Lion! And from the right, we’ve got our veteran bloodshedder; filled with a rage beyond belief, Raramlah, the Violet Flame!” The announcer continued with his prattling, hyping up the crowd with fancy words. They stood motionless, and as the words drew to an end, their head jolted to look up at this “Crimson Lion”. Aptly named for the man’s unkempt hair and red attire; they weren’t one for stage names, but they didn’t get much say in the matter. The bell rang.

They jumped first, lunging at the man with such ferocity, one would forget that they were of a Spoken race and not beastkin. They used their height to their advantage, even as Mateo's axe swung down at them, they continued to move forward. They tucked themselves behind their shield and charged, bashing into their opponent’s legs with enough force to make him stumble mid-swing. Down came their sword to slash at his knees, causing him to face the pain of standing. If only he had just toppled over, but he didn’t. His own rage kicked in, and a wild swing came at them from the left. They jumped back with just enough space to hear the screech of metal against their armor, scratching a huge line across the surface. How annoying, having to spend a good portion of their pay on fixing their armor; but they didn’t let it distract them for long. Mateo’s axe was above their head before they knew it, they lifted their shield and the blade smashed through, embedding itself deeply into their arm. No cries of agony came from them, it was snarl and some bestial growl that took them over. They ditched their shield as the man tried to pry his axe from it, ducking under his arms to swing their sword down in the same fashion - though they attacked with the intent to go through, and with a pained shout did Mateo jump back from them. His arm laid bloodied at Raramlah’s feet, and a smile came to their face as their eyes turned up to their opponent. Battle of the wills, and his will was lacking. They had to commend his perseverance, though, as he pushed past his pain to attempt to swing that massive weapon with one hand.

The force that went into it was reckless, and unfortunately, that was just the type of opponent that they hated. Reckless meant no plan, no way to judge what’s going to happen next, it meant that reading him was going to be an issue. They had to resort to dodging the next blows; swing after swing after swing, back and back, they were almost pushed to the wall. They had it though, as his axe came swinging at them from the left again. They went against the grain, looking as if they were dodging straight into the axe itself, but yet again, did it just scrape against their armor. It was deeper this time, a small gash over their chest, nothing of importance to them at the moment. As the axe flew past them, their sword was thrusted upwards, cutting into their opponent’s forearm; the pain and severed muscles caused him to drop his axe. Even then, he still tried to use fisticuffs against them. This was getting sad. They dropped their sword, giving the appearance they were going to fight a fair fight. They weren’t. They picked up Mateo’s axe instead, and with one swing, the man was on the ground, legs torn and bloodied. With a loud shout and another swing, they won the fight. His head rolled upon the floor, his body slumping afterwards, staining the sands red. They couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Why would his trainer or director put him against a veteran if he was new? It was in the past now. They dropped the axe and moved to the center of the arena to face the crowds and bow for their performance.

[atopearth]

Final Fantasy VII Remake Part 2 - The Beauty and Wackiness of Wall Market (Ch 8-11)

Btw, I forgot to mention it in the previous post but danggg, Aerith’s house is as beautiful as I imagined it to be. I always loved how it was a nice house surrounded by flowers and water, and I think the remake really nailed the atmosphere and beauty of it. It felt so tranquil and soothing. Lmao at Aerith trying to get Cloud to high five with her when they successfully work together to go through the shortcut to Sector 7. It’s hilarious how Cloud feels bad about not doing it since she looks so disappointed hahaha. HAHAHA, I love how Cloud decided to high five her but she didn’t realise until he awkwardly let his hands down hahahaha, Cloud is so adorable! Lmao at Aerith apologising for not getting it at the right timing and Cloud pretending to be dumb🥺🤣 I love how Aerith got him to high five her at the end of the walk. And lollll at those three robber “brothers”(?), yes, I realised that I could kick them around when they pretended to be dead after getting defeated by Cloud and Aerith, so yes, I did spend some time kicking them HAHAHA. It was stupid but funny okay?! I love how they added that bit because I always hated the random battle appearance of thieves in the original, they kept stealing my good items and money! But now it’s more of a fun yet ridiculous experience at the same time haha.

It’s kinda interesting how Aerith tells Cloud about Zack but Cloud isn’t able to hear his name properly. But it was really cute how she scooted closer to him when they sat down on the slide at the park. Omggg lmao at actually being able to play in the park, I never knew I needed to see Cloud going on a slide because that was so awesome! Yes, I’ll admit I went on it more times than I should have because I just found it hilarious that the stoic Cloud was on a slide like a big child hahahhaa. I always wished that I could play with it in the original, so that was super cool! They really put effort into the most useless things lmao. Outrageous that we don’t get to play on the swing though, that would have been so cool and fun!! Kinda sad now T_T It was so sweet when Cloud and Aerith were awkwardly saying goodbye to each other, I found it so endearing how Cloud was so ready to take her home if she told him she needed him to walk her back. Despite how tiring it may be to follow Aerith’s pace, he definitely finds her company enjoyable. I find it rather random that Cloud actually gets to talk to Tifa when she’s on the carriage to go to Don Corneo, but I guess it’s nice to see Aerith tell him that if Tifa’s important to him, he should really chase after her and protect her (since Corneo is dodgy), I guess despite my gripes with some things, it is nice that Aerith still plays the role of motivating Cloud to be more open with his feelings and doing what he wants rather than what he thinks he should do.

Wall Market is so wacky and lawless, I love it. It looks so good and everything nostalgic about it is there, it’s so awesome. It’s crazy how stuff like the pharmacy, the materia store, the bar, the clothing shop and the squats place is pretty much exactly like the original! It’s so awesome! HAHAHA, I love how when the promoters try to get Cloud to spend the night at the inn with Aerith, you can ask “how much?” and Aerith calls you out for it lolll. I mean, I had to try, right? LOL at Fat Chocobo, it’s so huge, that moogle was ugly btw. Lmao at Cloud enjoying the hand massage more than he thought he would hahaha. It was so cute seeing him flex it in such a dazed state hahaha. Madam M is pretty cute and hilarious though, loved it when she was so mad that Corneo intervened and made Cloud and Aerith fight an extra round in the Corneo Cup loll. Btw, if you’re curious, yes, I admit that I spent some time kicking the thief brothers around the stadium again LOL. Don’t judge me. I also spent some time admiring the flowers and signs Cloud and Aerith increasingly got after winning each round. The underground battle Coliseum was more fun than I thought though, not too hard and I think the announcers and audience really make the experience so great, I was so hyped even though I was the one fighting haha. The cartoon mini Corneo is hilariously cute. Lmao that the house monster became a boss though! Like, c’mon, now he’s not cute anymore! He’s still annoying though LOL. I had no idea how I was supposed to be killing him so it took me a while to realise what I needed to do after finally using Assess loll. A flying house with a shield is notttt fun!  The idea was hilarious though.

As for the squatting game lolll, that was relatively easy, took me a few tries to get used to it though hahaha. Leslie (the guy at the door blocking you from going to Corneo) is so nice, he legit tells Cloud and Aerith to not go for the audition because he knows how terrible of an experience it is for these women. I’m surprised. Awww, we don’t actually go to get the materials for Cloud’s dress?? That’s no fun! I wanted the clothing shop owner to find meaning in his life again by making dresses for men like Cloud lolll! And the aggressive customer that goes all quiet and just says “...you’re weird” when he sees Cloud dressed up as a girl was such a highlight! The wacky banter between the clothing shop owner and his son talking about this new business line in the original was so funny tooo! Honeybee Inn is fancier than I thought though, like wow, all that extravagance. I guess it’s good that Andrea liked Cloud and recommended him to Corneo haha. But omg, Aerith is absolutely stunning, definitely better than Tifa’s dress imo. Her hair is so beautiful too! Madam M did a good job! I loved how even Cloud was surprised how beautiful she was, also gotta love how Johnny rolled the red carpet for her lmao. AND I will proudly admit, I tried to peek when Madam M said she was going to dress Aerith up hahahaha. Anyway, by not making the dress for Cloud, you kinda miss out on how much Aerith enjoyed dressing up Cloud in the original and how much she teased him, so that’s kinda sad, but I guess Cloud’s cute so it’s okay lmao. Also kinda miss how confident and playful she was to pick her own dress and show it off like the boss she was though. 

LOL at that dancing game, it was so weirdly ridiculous since when you do the practice, Cloud literally moves with his sword hahaha. I really wanted to enjoy the dance instead of focusing on hitting buttons though! Especially since some were so hard to see, like seriouslyyyyy! It was really nice to see how much Aerith was enjoying herself watching Cloud and them dance, she’s such a party lover. The dance was pretty awesome in itself though, and Andrea really made Cloud look great, that tiara man! It was so funny when you get to annoy female Cloud with Aerith and keep calling his name but he ignores you hahahaha. LOL at the random passerby guy saying his girlfriend can be the most beautiful in the world, but Cloud is the most beautiful in the universe hahahaha.

Loll at the Don Corneo jukebox thing in his mansion hahahah. As usual, it’s so cute to see Cloud embarrassed and trying to ignore the fact that he’s dressed up like a girl in front of Tifa hahaha. Awww, the original was so much more funny when it came to Don Corneo picking one of them, it was hilarious in the original when Don Corneo would try to look at Cloud’s face properly but Cloud would turn his face the other way lmao. I guess it’s nice to see Tifa and Aerith kick some ass though? Hahaha, so cute how they’re both like, we need to save Cloud! Lol. The “reject room” was more funny in the original though, the guys used to follow you around like zombies before you beat them up haha. I guess we should be impressed that Leslie was able to hold the Buster sword with one hand to give it back to Aerith and them? Ahahah. Honestly though, I think that Wall Market felt the most nostalgic to me, I mean, seeing the noodle place where Cloud could eat, the depressed clothing store owner, the guy that’s stuck in the toilet at the bar, the shooting machine gun that’s supposed to give you something good later on and everything, it just felt so heartwarming. Even the squats were a welcome sight haha. So, even though I feel like they could have added more interactions here, the Coliseum and stuff were enjoyable in their own ways I guess haha, I’m happy enough to just see everything in the background tbh.

Okay, so I realised that PS4 screenshots don’t work like the Nintendo Switch, you actually have to hold the button or press triangle to save it, omg!! And yes, I was mad and sad, so I did a speed run through the first 9 chapters just to get them again lmao. Yes, I was dedicated, and stubborn lol. But omg, I ended up discovering new things! Which is not good! Lol. I realised (unfortunately) that there are different dresses for Cloud, Aerith and Tifa!! OMG. Incoming the shock of my life when I saw Aerith in a peasant dress!! I was like wow, Madam M was such a con artist, she literally took 990,000 of that 1 million gil prize from the Corneo Cup to give my girl Aerith the cheapest dress she could find. I guess I should have known when I did different quests and realised that there is that quest that makes you run around helping the clothing shop owner get back on his feet, and you kinda do the same thing as the original where you help out the sick guy in the bar etc, but I had hope… I really wanted better screenshots of Aerith’s extravagant dress!!😫😫 On that note though, I’m pretty disappointed in the change in the clothing shop owner’s motivations, I can’t believe they changed it to him wanting to go to the Honeybee Inn for inspiration omg!!! I’m so sad and mad. I honestly really loved the original because I found it understandable yet hilarious that what made the clothing shop owner stand up on his feet again was finding inspiration with dressing up Cloud in a dress. I also loved how much more Aerith interacted with Cloud here in Wall Market and teased him and helped him with everything. Now it just feels kinda…cheap. 

Sigh, anyway, somehow I got Cloud’s other dress (the purple one with black bows and his braids, so what the original FFVII dress would look the most like in high quality I guess) as well, like what did I do different?! Anyway, I kinda googled it, and apparently you had to do all those Aerith side quests to get the best dress, sigh, this is what happens when you speed run I guess. And lolll Tifa’s one doesn’t change even if you don’t do her side quests, it’s only when you do them that you get the option to choose the other (uglier imo) dresses. And Cloud’s one…I have no idea, apparently it depends on whether you do the Chocobo Sam or Madam M side quests thing, but I’m not sure how I ended up getting it. All I remember for the tiara dress is that I chose “no deal” for the coin toss with Sam, said no to Johnny at Honeybee Inn and I did the standard course for the massage. Whereas for the braids look, I chose “heads” for the coin toss, did the luxurious hand massage and just completely ignored the side quest to follow Johnny. So yeah…whatever I guess lol, just bear with my dodgy screenshots then hahaha. Or maybe I’ll just get my bro to do them for me when he plays haha! (My bro didn’t end up playing it, the traitorrr, so yes, dodgy screenshots it is~)

I’m glad the sewers weren’t as tedious than the original haha, but the water pump thing was so confusing! I legit didn’t get it lmao, took me a while to realise what I needed to do, sigh, maybe I’m just stupid LOL, I was like, what is Aerith’s role in this?! The needle moved so fast I didn’t realise I was supposed to stop it inside the red part hahahha. I also very much enjoyed turning into a frog with Cloud, I mean, having a frog with a mini Buster Sword jump around blowing bubbles or whatever was hilarious to the max LOL. I guess it’s kinda cute how Aerith and Tifa are bonding through this journey together, and it’s sweet how Aerith is trying to encourage and comfort Tifa by getting her to think about what they can do after they save Sector 7 from Shinra. It’s saddening though, that because of Avalanche, Shinra is planning to kill all these people to make a sort of representation that this is what happens when you go against them whilst falsely showing to the world that these eco-terrorists are willing to destroy a whole plate to achieve their purposes. Even Reno who doesn’t feel like he has the right to feel that way anymore considering the work he does feels a bit uncomfortable with it. On the other hand, the train graveyard was as tedious as usual, not as dangerous as the original though.The place is so creepy btw! Lol. In the original, it had a more solemn atmosphere where I felt like it showed the remains of a past gone, but here, it just feels scary with the ghosts etc lol. Although I guess with how Aerith reacts to it all, it is saddening that these ghosts seem to have just been really lonely and wanted to play hide and seek with Cloud and them after finally getting to see people come here. Honestly though, that vending machine here playing music!! It scared me with the loud music LOL. Small Aerith is probably the cutest tbh! It was so cute when young her was sad and lonely about not being found by other people(ghost showing her sad memories), and then Cloud and Tifa find her and save her in reality, it’s kinda corny, but it’s cute and rather sweet haha.

Okay, I was going to talk about CH 12-14 here as well but somehow the post got too long so I’ll leave it for the next part lolll. I guess me gushing over the beauty of Aerith whilst complaining about my clothing shop owner being demoted into a sleazy guy took up a lot of the post huh? Seriously though, regardless of the changes, I still really enjoyed it because I think the changes made it flow nicely in its own way, and really, I love the whole idea of the Corneo Cup and expanding the role of the Honeybee Inn in the story so I don’t mind the reinterpretation that it went through. I mean, some details were lost and it’s saddening, but at the same time, it was still rather fun and refreshing in its own way. I’d say my biggest gripe is that Corneo is more creepy than funny and that kinda kills the whole mood, but then again, the remake has been more “serious” so it’s understandable. I still got to see Aerith bond with Cloud on the slide (one of my favourite moments), and I got to see how breathtaking Aerith was in her dress, so it’s a win! I think I could spend all day marvelling at how detailed and beautiful Wall Market is tbh. I spent a lot of time looking for the restaurant to see if I could order food and other nostalgic things, and the remake really fit it all in rather nicely! So really, I complain a lot but I still loved it :P

P.S Ms Folia (orphanage teacher?) being a Honeybee girl because her dream is to become a dancer was SO RANDOM and silly lmaoo. Also no idea why I’m hearing a rendition of Farm Boy in Wall Market, it’s so random! And yes, I got lost in Wall Market a lot lolll. I also found it hilarious to see Johnny’s father around everywhere, whether it be in the inn wandering where he can find Johnny, or be it him playing around in the Honeybee Inn even though he’s supposed to be finding his son LOL. Now we know why Johnny is the way he is~

[fheythfully]

with balance will your worry part

"I know not whether to be surprised or amazed at what I just witnessed," Arbert announces as he appears beside her. He watches the sky where the dragonlet had disappeared for a moment before shaking his head. "Pray tell me, Warrior of Light: did you truly just let a baby dragon nearly stick its head in your mouth?"

Takes place before "a heartbeat without harmony", after "so still this broken melody" in the series.

Click here or the read more.

She sits at the edge of the plaza being rebuilt, tucked into a hole of unfinished stone and soil away from the wind. The sound of Moogles hammering away and the murmur of the knights reaches her still and Lieal leans her head back against the dirty stone and breathes it all in.

It's beautiful, she thinks, and feels excitement at the prospect of seeing the plaza soon finished.

"Miss!" One of the dragonlets wont to follow her around squeaks near by and the girl cranes her head upwards.

"Good evening," she greets the child with a warm smile. "I hope the night is going well for you?"

"Oh, it is!" Ohl Deeh trills back and drops to a landing beside her. His little claws indent the leather of her gear as he climbs to her lap, chattering away a yalm a minute while he settles into what the dragonlets have decided to be their favourite resting place: snuggled against her, their tails curled around their bodies and snouts buried in her waist.

Obligingly, Lieal runs her nails down the length of his neck. He makes a noise not unlike the purring her cat makes when she scratches her belly.

"Are you hungry?" The dragonlet breaks from its tale of the day to inquire, raising his head to look at her with eyes full of concern. "I can hunt you down a meal! I am a very good hunter, you know." He preens and Lieal chuckles, tickling the underside of his jaw.

"I am alright, but thank you. We eat very different things, you know."

Ohl Deeh cocks its head at her. "But you have fangs, just like I do. Does that not mean we eat the same?"

"I'm sorry to say that mine are not as impressive as yours!" Laughing, Lieal opens her mouth and bares her teeth at the child in her lap. "See?" She says after a moment of letting him examine her face. "Not nearly the same amount as you, or even as sharp. You could win in a hunt against me easily."

"Well," Ohl Deeh considers. "That would be because I am such a good hunter. None of my friends can beat me, so you wouldn't be the only one." His tail thawps lightly against her legs in what she's come to recognize as an attempt at comforting. "There are plenty of other things you're good at, Miss," the dragonlet consoles.

Lieal's lips pull into a large grin. "Thank you, Ohl Deeh. I appreciate your kind words." The small tail beats against her legs again with excitement, much like a puppy. "It is getting rather late though. Should you not sleep soon?"

"Oh," Ohl Deeh remarks with no small amount of sadness. "I suppose so. The early dragonlet catches the prey, after all." His little face reaches up to rub his snout against the tip of her nose in an affectionate farewell before crawling off, ensuring his wings and claws do not get caught on her clothes. "Good night, Miss!" He calls in farewell and lifts off into the approaching night. Lieal watches him go, smiling like a loon.

Dragons, she thinks. And people were so frightened of them for so long.

There is the barest of an air shift at the wall beside her before a now familiar voice speaks. "I know not whether to be surprised or amazed at what I just witnessed," Arbert announces as he appears beside her. He watches the sky where the dragonlet had disappeared for a moment before shaking his head. "Pray tell me, Warrior of Light: did you truly just let a baby dragon nearly stick its head in your mouth?"

Lieal flushes. "It was in the name of science," she tells him. "And friendship. Ohl Deeh knows enough to be gentle with us. He would not intentionally harm me."

"Intentionally," Arbert repeats. "I truly wonder at you, sometimes."

"And yet you chose to remain behind here instead of leaving with your friends." Lieal says and immediately regrets it. Avoiding his eyes in the sudden heavy atmosphere between them, she pats the ground next to her as an invitation. It had been some time since they had last spoken at Alexander with just the two of them - much had happened since then. For a brief moment her throat closes up at the memory of Minfillia leading the other Warriors of Darkness back to their world, and then she inhales again at the sorrow settles once more.

Arbert's weight is a palpable presence beside her even without her looking as he sits down. "Ah, yes, the decision I have been wrecking my head over ever since that day."

She sneaks a glance at him and is, as always, struck by the way his body emits no warmth. The lack of colour in his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. She finds her eyes drawn to his chest and she wonders: does he yet have a beating heart?

"Always with the staring," Arbert comments and Lieal gives up her attempts at subtlety. She meets his eyes, unashamed, and he raises a brow at her. "Are you not finally going to ask?"

"I will," she says. "Are you dead, then? How long will this body last you?"

Arbert shrugs. "Who knows how long I have left. Perhaps an eternity, perhaps only a day. The Ascians are unlikely to offer any answers."

"Have you tried asking Urianger?" Lieal suggests. "Speaking of him - where have you been staying all this time? Is it the Waking Sands?"

Arbert offers her a smirk. "Got it in one, Warrior. As for your friendly Elezen scholar, I cannot say that I have had the opportunity to corner him to ask. Up until recently, it is not as if my question of morality has been a concern."

"You should approach him," Lieal persists. "Perhaps he will know. Or Krile. The Scions are bound to know something, and if they do not, then it is well within their power to seek out the answer."

"Approach them and practically beg for my life?" Arbert scoffs. "After I aimed to kill them? I think not, Warrior."

Beside him, Lieal rolls her eyes and reaches out to punch his arm. The gesture is made with friendly intentions and yet the man still moves to avoid it. "As if that could hurt me," he laughs with some amount of scorn.

"You are so irritating!" The Miqo'te puts proper effort into her movements and this time, the punch strikes true before her companion can react. "They are well aware that you remain here," she continues as Arbert reaches up to rub at his shoulder, his eyes slanted into a glare sent her way. "And better yet, they know you are with me. They will listen to your request."

"Have it your way," Arbert snaps out in reply. "I will consider approaching them. In the mean time, I intend to return to my skulking of the Waking Sands. Pray excuse me."

He moves to stay up and without thinking, Lieal reaches out to grab at his arm. Even through his leathers she can feel the chill of his skin. "Wait. The Waking Sands may not be the best place for you, and you know this." All the Warriors had remained there and she can only imagine the bitterness he must feel at now being there, alone, with corners and hallways full of memories no matter how short lived they may have been. It is all too familiar to her avoidance of the place, the preference to meet only at the Rising Stones.

Arbert does not argue against her insinuation. "Where do you suggest I go then?" He asks instead. "An Inn? With what Gil? It has been a long time since I was an adventurer for hire."

"Well, while I typically do not like to invite strangers back home with me, I do have a couch and an exception I can make." Lieal offers him a smile, her tone half joking.

Arbert stares at her for several long, drawn out moments until Lieal begins to doubt her blind leap of faith. "Am I back to being a stranger, then?" He finally says, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk. "I thought we were friends."

Friends. The word pulses like a brand inside of her chest. "Friends call each other by their names," the girl points out. "And not by their titles. Especially when one's title is as unnecessary as "Warrior of Light.""

She knows that she is, indeed, a warrior of Hydaelyn's Light in this ongoing battle with the Darkness. And she knows that he knows it just as well, and also exactly what she means when she tells him this anyway.

"Very well, Lieal. Thank you for welcoming me into your home." Arbert's expression manages to appear both grateful and patronizing at the same time. Grinning, she stands up and dusts off her clothes.

"Shall we head off, then? If you are indeed staying, then a trip to the market is required. My kitchen is only stocked for one."

"How domestic," Arbert remarks with a sigh. "We barely even know each other and I already am about to become your errand boy. Is this what you have learned from the Scions? How to make one run errands?"

"Of course not," Lieal replies with an innocence that belies her smile. "I have no clue what you speak of."

Arbert merely grunts in response and waits for her to ensure she has all her belongings. "By the by, what are you doing in a place like this?"

The setting sun wreaths them in a halo of warmth. "I am helping rebuild," she answers.  Smiling, she grabs at his wrist in preparation for the teleportation spell.

"One stone at a time. It is slow going, but we will get there. Together."