#elezen are neat

[iron-sparrow]

Character themes? Character themes! I don't know if any of y'all have a process with OC playlists, but mine is literally just throwing anything with the OC's vibe into their music collection and then forgetting I have a playlist at all.

Doesn't help that I hit a massive creativity roadblock earlier this year.

But I was inspired by a post from @archaiclumina, and the resulting itch never quite went away. So here are some instrumental tracks that hit the OC vibes just right...

Yein Que-Sae

Despite their intimidating size and appearance, Yein is typically very polite and friendly to others. When they speak, their voice rolls forth in a low, comforting growl -- a gentle rumble reminiscent of smooth river rocks tumbling over each other.

Yein is no stranger to the ugliness of the star, and it's ravaged their appearance. Even so, they are sworn to preserve and honor the sanctity of all life. To achieve this, they greet the world they have devoted themself to with an open heart. They give their love to others freely, in spite of all their fears and their pain. In combat, they will raise their shield before they draw their sword.

Yein is a fighter, and this is how they fight.

Sacheo Maz-Yeh

Sacheo loves his sibling, but he is very much not like them. Here is a gaping wound of a man, a scar upon the aetheric tapestry woven into the world.

Anyone with special sight can see the rot he has allowed to spread across his own heart. His sorrow runs deep, and rather than try to heal from it, he's nurtured it with poison until it grew into an unquenchable rage. He wields this rage expertly, however, and directs it at (perceived) threats against himself and his clan.

To his credit, Sacheo is an effective protector. For him, no sacrifice is too great.

Lia A’yue-Len

House Amedelune is built upon the A'yue-Len bloodline and their enduring legacy of survival. Little of the old clan remains today except for Lia and the family she guides with her iron fist.

The youngest of her generation, she was determined since her youth to carve for herself a life that could be lived on her own terms. She has shed the blood of many to achieve this; her spear knows the taste of dragon and elezen flesh very well.

Currently, Lia remains the head of House Amedelune and continues gazing ahead into the future. After all, the present is fleeting.

I do have a few other OCs floating around, but these three are kind of the "mains" in my head. Hope you enjoyed.

[punchelf]

Clutter

"...My love, could you come downstairs for a moment?"

"Is something amiss, my love?"

"I'm not sure… How does one discern if something here has been misplaced?"

"Ah, it’s very simple! You see, I have a system based on—”

"..."

"...I'll think I’ll tidy up..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elftober, Day 13

[ahollowgrave]

o: For you! a: Oh! Thank you... where did you find this? o: ... it's for you!

][ Once more featuring @abyssalmermaiden's lovely Aryaille! ][

[thatonediviner]

To the sky.

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

[alicienacorvin]

[candycryptids]

👿- What's their worst trait?

eheheh >:) for whoever you feel it would be the most fun to answer!!

Firstly thank you for da ask ;w;!!! This was spicy because I’m actually going to talk about my husbands guy a little bit… and show y’all post ShB-semi-into-EW Ishi eheheehee- tho there’s a very very mild ShB spoiler so watch out!

“I appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak with me, and answering all the questions I’ve had concerning your journey and how you’ve felt through it all… Your insight into the first and your extensive knowledge of Feo Ul was quite interesting.”

“Mmhm, it’s been surreal recounting everything that happened, but at least SOMEBODY’s writing it down now.. And Their Majesty has made wielding scholastic magic much easier, since I can’t summon my own faerie normally. Are you sure you don’t want a cookie? They’re Kizuna’s da’s recipe, you know.”

“Ah, speaking of Kizuna… You two have started dating right? The two shining beacons of heroism and do-gooding-recklessly, surely you know better than anyone else what he’s like. We all know his good side, but what about the bad?”

“Eh???? EHHHH?? Where’d you get that idea?! D-dating… uhm… you’re not going to write that in your book right? That’s- that’s just speculation! Besides we’re not really public yet, Uhm, h-he’s really great, I can’t think of a bad trait, really, he can cook, he’s wicked with all kinds of weapons, he’s strong, and, handsome, he’s gentle with kids, and animals… He’s always trying his best, you know? Uh-uhm… he built his own house, in Ishgard-“

“I already know all about that, Ishi, I actually stopped by there last week to see if he was there. Besides. every Hero needs their tragic flaw, or they risk becoming as untouchable Gods in the mind of the people. So, give me something to work with, it doesn’t have to be grand, just, something that grounds him back in the common man.”

“But Kizuna’s not a common man- ah… ff..fine, ok, sometimes, uhm, I think… I worry, he makes himself miss out on fun stuff, because he’s worried more about keeping everyone and everything safe. Someone somewhere falls into peril and it’s, his problem now. I can usually make him slow down, but sometimes we both end up really swept up in it… uhm… I don’t know. Oh… my cookie……”

“… I think I can work with that…”

Kizuna belongs to @zombiesockfuckinglovescardfight •v• (and if he wants to add something to this he can! >:3)

[Duo’s OC Ask Game]

[ishgardianskypirate]

[yetanotherwol]

No matter the game, I can't escape the elves

[thorneyes]

[iron-sparrow]

elftober 【 第十號 】 ICE

Yet ever do our aching souls point Heavensward

[vyndist]

haven’t posted much in awhile so here’s some different sketches and art of my wol, Waylen (:

[candycryptids]

HOLD ON PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE PLUSH CUSHION? I am so bad at Verminion but that sounds. 🫣 INCREDIBLE?

Ouuuhuuu ok this can be for your characters or for just you specifically do you/they have a favorite mini game at the Gold Saucer? Personally I really like the Aesthetics of Moogle Paw but I keep going back to Crystal Tower Striker every week over the- ah it’s name escapes me, you punch Gilgamesh and I think it’s got Goaler in the name?

Thank you for the ask!! I actually do have an answer to this because they spend a lot of time at the Saucer canonically! (I'd blame Cal, but in reality it's because Uncle Zan owns a racing chocobo. His name is Bonecrusher. Cal named him, fun fact, Bonecrusher also loses a lot. c': ) But to answer for the Blorbaes: Oli's fav game is Cuff-a-Curr! That's the one where you punch Gilgamesh!!! Oli has a great right hook! Also there are lots of people and noise at the Saucer and Oli is often easily startled/easily pissed off by seeing people coercing children to become silver miners. Cuff-a-Curr is a really good way for her to ensure she doesn't get in trouble with security.

Ren's favourite minigame at the Gold Saucer is making fun of Cal while he loses at The Moogle's Paw. She stands by the machine and doesn't win any prizes, so it's basically the same thing that happens when he's playing it! It counts! c: Here is one of the screens of them I didn't use last night c':

Hahahah, ok, but real talk. My fav thing to do at the Gold Saucer is play Lord of Verminion! That's basically all I do there besides the cactpot and maybe some GATES but I am very scarred from Leap of Faith, you know? So, Lord of Verminion is my safe space. Also, a cool 15k MGP every week! (150k+ atm with Make it Rain on actually, check this guide if you need fast MGP friends!) On OCE I have a patented method where I spawn nothing but the cushion minion and if I successfully slay everything with cushions. It gives me a lot of life!!

[lilbittymonster]

Day 22: Itch (Free Day #3)

Read on AO3

Estinien walked down the hallway with the bundle of bathing supplies in hand. Kitali had left her coat crumpled on the floor next to one of the doors, and he smiled to himself at the courtesy. At this time of day, the place had been deserted, but better to avoid unnecessary accidents all the same.

He knocked softly on the door frame before sliding in, closing the door quickly behind him. The rest of her clothing was on the bench with room for his. The room was silent except for the steady burble of water flowing through the bathing tub. He stripped, folding the underclothes as neat as he could before stacking his armour into a precarious pile, and dug the linkpearl out of his ear and placed it in the palm of one of the gauntlets.

Kitali was already mostly submerged, staring vacantly at the mosaics of the wall. A stick of incense was burning somewhere and there was a light haze that settled over the water. It was vaguely reminiscent of a hot spring. Estinien slid into the water, trying not to look too hard at the mottled green-black scales out of the corner of his eye as he moved. With a plunge, he ducked his head underwater and wet his hair to begin scrubbing.

As he watched the suds slowly drift away on the current, Kitali floated herself over to him and bumped her head into his arm before sitting up.

“They had lavender,” he said as he handed over the small bottle of shampoo.

With a small hum she took it, and he slid a bit away from her to give her space. Taking up the bar of cheap soap he began lathering his own torso. Haltingly Kitali poured some of the liquid into her hand, and got about halfway through running her hands through her hair before she stopped, staring at something invisible to him in the water’s surface.

“Did you forget how to wash?” he joked.

“Hmm?”

“You just...stopped.”

She sighed, almost going to rub her eyes before catching herself. He frowned as he rinsed the soap from his skin.

“You alright?”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper.

Straightening up again, he took the vial from her and poured a small amount out.

“Here. Turn.”

She obeyed and Estinien worked his hands through her hair until it was full of foam. When he reached her hairline she winced and pulled away. He immediately froze, worried.

“What’d I do?”

“I don’t-” She felt gingerly at her scalp before huffing a laugh and pulling his hands back to touch it. Beneath his fingertips he could feel two symmetrical bumps, small though they were, on either side of her head.

“...are you growing new horns?”

“I think so.” She still sounded distant.

He gently withdrew his hands and scooped some water into them to start rinsing the suds from her hair. Wordlessly she tipped her head back, letting it run clean, and he couldn’t help but remember Aymeric doing this for him on so many occasions. It was obvious he still did it for Kitali. Without stopping to think, he turned to grab the jar of conditioner and smoothed it through her hair as well.

“Did you leave enough for you?” she asked idly.

“I don’t use it.”

“And you wonder why your hair gets tangled so easily,” she said, almost nearing her usual self. Kitali twisted her hair into a simple rope and coiled it on her head. “We’re supposed to be luxuriating, remember?”

Sighing over-dramatically at her, he turned and scooped out the remnants of the jar and applied it to his own hair, mimicking her topknot. “I suppose.”

She was present enough to smile at that, at least, and she had picked up the bristle brush that was included in their bundle as well as the bar of soap. He watched as she worked up a thick stiff foam with it before scrubbing at the scales on her forearm.

“You should get one of these,” she said, shaking the brush in indication. “I’m sure there’s plenty of places in the bazaar selling them.”

He curled his hand self-consciously over his left shoulder.

“It’d look a bit odd, wouldn’t it? An elezen buying a brush meant for scales.”

“Or your more than willing auri friend could buy one for you,” she countered pointedly. “I doubt anyone would look at you twice anyways, coin is coin.”

He hummed in agreement as she contorted to wash her sides and back.

“Do you want some help with that?” he offered.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, handing him the brush and turning her back to him once more.

He accepted it from her and dragged the bristles across the center of her back in slow circles, like how she had been doing. The more he worked, the more he could see the tension bleed out from her as she slumped forwards, letting herself be moved with the motions.

“These scales look new, as well,” he commented, tracing a finger around the several small patches of dark blue-black scales along the edges of the more established patches.

“Probably are. I don’t think they ever really stop growing.”

Estinien dipped the brush in the water, shaking the bubbles from it, and smoothed the lather from her skin. The bubbles swirled past him on the surface of the water on the current. Kitali turned and held out her hand towards him expectantly.

“Your turn.”

“For what?”

She tilted her head at him. “You helped me, it’s only fair I help you.”

“You and your debts,” he sighed.

Still, he handed her back the brush and let her handle his arm. As the soap bubbles slowly turned a faint brown, he distinctly looked anywhere but her face. Her scrubbing circles became tighter, the soft scrape of the bristles against scale growing louder than the sound of the bath water.

“These must itch like hell.”

Estinien shrugged. “No more than the rest of me after being in armour all day.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you one of these brushes,” she muttered with finality. He didn’t argue.

He sat patiently as she moved to his shoulder, angling down so she could reach. Her fingers ghosted searchingly over where the infections were.

“These healed well,” she murmured, closer to him than he expected. “No scarring.”

“I’m sure Alphinaud’s healing took care of them.”

“More than likely.”

As she worked at the expanse of scales capping his left shoulder and down his back, he turned over the newly gleaming scales on his right arm. In the warm candlelight, they almost looked like gems. Almost pretty. Water ran down his back and over his chest as Kitali rinsed the suds away and sat back from him. She slid forward into the basin and submerged entirely, shaking out her hair in a wide cloud beneath the water. Behind him, Estinien heard the linkpearl chime.

“We should get back,” he said as she resurfaced. “Before they send out a search party.”

“They won’t,” she said. “Thancred knows better.”

“As if Thancred is the only one making decisions for all of them,” Estinien responded wryly.

Kitali grumbled under her breath as she stood to exit the bath, still wringing her hair out. He averted his eyes, staying in the basin as he heard her drying off and dressing again.

“Don’t forget your coat,” he reminded her.

“I won’t.”

The door slid open and shut as she left. The linkpearl chimed again from the gauntlet. Estinien closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of the water running.

“What are you doing, Varlineau?” he said softly to the empty room.

[shiratamako]

For the NPC ask game: I nominate Aymeric!

Aymeric only caught glimpses of the fabled Warrior of Light with Haurchefant before the two of them had entered the intercessory. The white snowscape and fall of sleet obscured much of what he could make out of the two figures. He gave his salutations to Commander Leveilleur, the young Elezen following suit. Arriving at the intercessory with the taciturn Lucia, he was at last able to glimpse on the figure of the Shira Tamako.

He was certain before he entered, he heard Haurchefant try to speak words to rouse the Warrior’s spirit. Observing them here, the two seemed fairly intimate — though one could certainly say the same for the close proximity that Lucia gave with him, a faithful shadow. There was seemingly something more than trusted friendship. He could sense Haurchefant’s fondness for her in every gesture he made. A wry smile was on his lips, faint as it was.  The Silver Fuller was an exuberant man, though in Haurchefant's eyes that were constantly obscured by his hair, Aymeric did sense that Haurchefant's eyes sparkled with wholehearted passion.

He wished to see what stoked Haurchefant's zeal so — this Warrior of Light.

Shira was much shorter than he envisioned, waifish and perhaps even shy. Despite that, she commanded a noble presence. She cut a clean, elegant silhouette with her black attire. Her hair was neat, and kept short. Her scales seemed to contrast greatly with her pallid skin, noticing the dark patches that graced the sides of her cheeks, neck and hands.

 “Speaking of reputations, yours towers over us all. Does it not?”

His voice remained even, low, and soft-spoken. Peering at her with his light blue eyes, he did his best to be gracious. He turned his head ever-so-slightly to Lucia, acknowledging that she too, had full respect for the Warrior of Light.

Lucia tilted her head in reverence. “It does indeed, Lord Commander.”

Haurchefant nodded in fervent agreement. Aymeric could see that Shira was becoming flustered over this display of generous support, casting Haurchefant a concerned glance. It was rather endearing how much she seemed to depend on him. In truth, Aymeric felt somewhat guilty. If anything, she had the grace of eschewing noble customs as the one he requested be here.

Finally, she looked at him. In the dim lighting, an annular glow surrounded her irises. Au Ra were but near exterminated in Ishgard, that Aymeric was unaware of the phenomenon of limbal rings and their eerie crepuscular glow. No doubt upon her arrival to Coerthas would she have been called a heretic. He was starting to understand perhaps why Haurchefant comforted her so before he arrived at the intercessory.

 “A… pleasure to meet you, Ser Aymeric,” Shira’s voice was cheerful, strained perhaps due to nerves. She offered him her best smile, meek as it was.

Perhaps, if he offered something more candidly, he would see her more at ease.

“I am not too proud to admit that I have followed your activities with an interest bordering on fascination. Full glad was I to learn that you would be joining us.”

Aymeric did his best to assuage her, though Shira still seemed rather furtive and withdrawn. Perhaps the idea of a diplomatic meeting was something more intimidating to the Warrior of Light. As much as he would have loved to listen to her tales and exploits, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Now then, shall we begin?”

[chronothread]

Steer

Moonlight pours through a window, spilling onto the tatami mats of the room. A tall figure stands between that portal into their shelter, shielding a bed from the influences of the outside world. The shadow it casts is long - a tall figure - a pair of katanas clear on its shape. A red-haired miqo’te lays peacefully on the sheets - messy hair, freckles, starkly-colored eyes. She’s swaddled in blankets and draped in the figure’s darkness, facing towards a now empty spot of her bed. Quietly, carefully, the figure leans over the miqo’te, hovering in front of her face. Closer, closer they draw…

Planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

Reluctantly, they retreat from her form and turn to the window, having finished dressing themself. Under the moonlight they are revealed; with pointy ears and a slender but muscular - athletic build, the figure becomes not just a figure, but an elezen. With a quiet sigh, they make their way towards the portal, stepping into the dark unknown and raising their right arm to shut the screen behind them - taking the moonlight from the room, leaving the bed untouched.

They wander the streets of Shirogane aimlessly. It’s at a swift, and yet still leisurely pace, as if moonlight in this foreign place was just another example of home. They move between the shadows, keeping out of sight and out of mind of gazes that stray - if there were even any still watching the roads and the alleyways of the ward. Only the stray vulpine natives were there to keep them company, a few, fascinated foxes following the footsteps of this foreign figure. Their right arm guides their movements, touching stone and wood when they turn corners. Their left arm dangles, unmoving of their own accord. They quickly leave the boundaries of the housing district and find themself on the isle’s beach, footsteps turning to footprints. 

The heels of the elezen’s geta sink softly into the wet sand as they step towards the waters, perhaps the first few steps they had this night with any purpose or direction. With the moon rested high above their head, the figure’s form is illuminated clearly in the night’s embrace. Their hair was a very light shade of lavender, with periwinkle - nearly white really - scattered about their head. The figure - a swordsman clearly with their weapons - looks down into the water, into their reflection. The dull glow of amber is the first thing to greet them, followed by the rest of the rest of their face. Soft features, but sharp, slim. High cheekbones, large but angular eyes, amber like the glow mentioned. Tired eyes, bags present without makeup to hide them. Their hair is messy - at least as of recent, with bangs scattered mainly on the left side of their face, but not obstructing their vision. It’s short enough, doesn’t go past - doesn’t even reach their shoulders.

Their lips are pressed into a thin line, before they shut their eyes, a heavy sigh escaping their lips. It wasn’t supposed to be lavender and periwinkle. Purple - violet even - but not this. It was supposed to be neat and tidy. There weren’t supposed to be bags…at least none to see, and they weren’t supposed to look so damn tired. There was supposed to be a smile on their face.

Their left arm wasn’t supposed to hang limply at their side. It was supposed to push the bangs out of their face.

The elezen raises their right arm slowly, towards the sky. They attempt the same with the left. No response. They attempt to clench each fist. Dutifully the right curls each finger one by one, ending with the thumb. The left? Not even the pinky twitches.

This goes on for several minutes, their brows creasing further and further, until eventually they had knit together so tightly to form a scowl that stared back at them from the clear waters of Shirogane. There was supposed to be a smile on their face.

Finally, the swordsman draws steel, body twisting into a form, feet planted firmly in the loose, water-logged sand. Right leg forward, bent, left foot backwards, straight and sturdy. Right arm raised and bent backwards, blade behind their shoulder, left arm under the right and bent towards the side, blade pointed behind them.

Or, ideally anyways. Instead what they got was half a stance. Half a swordsman.

In frustration, they bring their good arm down quickly, cleanly. Violently. Cold steel passes through the water, cutting through their reflection and distorting the image, small ripples forming at the beachfront. The swordsman now refuses to look down.

The worst thing is that they could still feel the damn thing. When they disrobe, when they shower, when their redheaded roommate would take their hand and hold it to her face. Every sensation was there. But they were no longer its captain. A portion of the ship, but no longer part of the vessel.

They clean their blade, wiping it of saltwater and returning it to its resting place. Finally, in exhaustion they fall to their knees, drenching their koshita. The swordsman falls quietly to the sands, to the water, soaking their hair - their clothing.

A broken vessel is washed ashore, with neither guidance nor purpose to drive it forward.