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renofmanyalts · 2 years ago

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I chose "yes" because I have fourteen alts where you can at least look at their place of origin, and only five where you can't. (hello yes my URL does not lie 😅)

Details under the cut because this was way too much for tags:

Yes, you can put eyeballs on the general area, at least:

La Noscea

Zedyr's childhood home was in Halfstone, W. La Noscea. Previously, this area was not really accessible (other than the Sapsa Spawning Grounds down in the eroded caves) but now you can fly over the area and imagine it how it used to be when it was a settlement 😥

Strammund was born in a coastal village in La Noscea, probably within spitting distance of Limsa Lominsa. I don't have a lot of detail for it, but you could theoretically visit the zone, at least.

Renan's component persons were from Ancient Nym. You can... visit the ruins? 😬? (pictured below)

Thanalan

Maati grew up in Ul'dah (and is still living and working there, actually, though she's with the Milvaneth Sacrarium, which isn't really accessible in-game).

Raranen is from Ul'dah, same as Maati.

Selah grew up in Ul'dah, in the middle-class merchant districts (the Fronds?) Not accessible in-game, exactly, but you can get the general vibe, at least.

Rhenbraen (pictured below) was raised in a (non-canon) orphanage in Central Thanalan, and later worked the mines in the area. They frequently visited the Coffer & Coffin.

The Black Shroud

Zhah'ra is from the East Shroud, sort of near where Baelsar's Wall is now or perhaps a bit north of that. I headcanon it as much more extensive than the areas we can access in-game, of course, but I think you can sorta fly over the area he was from to get a feel for it.

Maayan (pictured below) is from the Shroud. She grew up in a large house, which I think was probably in the Central Shroud, somewhere? Her family might have moved to Gridania proper after the Calamity? I'm not sure. She doesn't visit them, so it hasn't come up.

Iris is from... uhhh... Gridania? City boy, probably specifically from the Gentry's Ward. Don't have many details for him, though.

Maparhi (Zhah'ra's cousin) is another one from the East Shroud, though a little further east. Her family's home territory was destroyed to build Baelsar's Wall.

Pash'a was originally from what is now the East End (and was conscripted by the Garleans).

Coerthas

Amande grew up in Ishgard, in the Pillars, as the son of the steward to a minor house. (I haven't identified his specific building or anything; maybe I'll pin it down further once he gets up there himself.)

Danyell (pictured below) is from Coerthas! I think I decided that he's specifically from a little farm in the western part of Coerthas Central Highlands.

No eyeballs :( Imagination only:

Silver Sage's homeland can only (perhaps) be glimpsed from far above, since he is from a small village in Abalathia's Spine. I haven't quite figured out where in the Spine he is from, exactly, though.

Emerik is from a Garlean colony in Ilsabard. I know it was a port city (on a river?) but that's it. His family was originally based in the woods/mountains further inland, but his mother moved to the city to look for work when Emerik was very little.

Ryoku is from a mountain holding north of Doma, under the rule of Lord Kita. As far as I know, this area cannot be accessed even to look at it over zone lines.

Mama Dee is from Ilsabard, probably north up the coast close to Garlemald (though not on the coast). The area has been occupied by the Garleans for quite some time.

Firn is from, um, idk, an alpine area? somewhere? I'm really not clear enough on the geography of the Veena home ranges to be able to pin down his homeland.

Deliberately chose the binary yes/no, but with the caveat that you can be as pedantic as you like because it's about how you FEEL. Are they from Doma but actually that nice farm you can see across the water in Yanxia and so you've never set foot there but you sort of feel at home in the zone? You can click yes. You made them from Dalmascus and an alliance raid runs right past their old front door, but it doesn't feel like a legit place to hang out in game and you're sad they didn't give us a full zone out there? Click no!

I've wondered about this since I started playing because the character creator gives you vague geographic details before you even start and maybe know nothing about the world, and then takes you up to the starter city like you're from somewhere else, and sometimes if you roll a character without knowing the story you end up accidentally Magnai's long-suffering sibling because of your choices and the naming conventions in the randomiser. How much drastic change has that caused or are you sticking with early OC characterisation plans?

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tau1tvec · 3 months ago

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Finally finished furnishing the ranch, only to realize it's a lotta work to run one, so Marco's cousin Emerik will be helping out when he can.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sim: yan #sim: marco #sim: emerik #sim: catherine #sim: gigi #sim: demitri

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d3utschland · 6 months ago

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█ | ▷ 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐔𝐌 ↺ VISIT MALTA CUP WINNERS ; AUGUST 10, 2024

mutuals may reblog & interact.

#* ch. alex. → visual.#* ch. jamal. → visual.#* dyn. joshua kraus. → m1dfielder.#* ch. emerik. → visual.#* ch. lucas. → visual.#* edits.

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tacogoats · 2 years ago

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crossposting from twit of the first and probably only art i will ever create of my guardian, Emerik, and his Ghost, Xenia

also this

#destiny 2 #my characters #guardian: emerik #he has a tag now #my doodles #:^)#no i will never clean anything i only like gross sketching.

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championsleagve · 2 months ago

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emerik tags

* ch. emerik. → visual.

* ch. emerik. → interactions.

* ch. emerik. → musings.

* ch. emerik. → aesthetics.

* ch. emerik. → desires.

* ch. emerik. → headcanons.

#* ch. emerik. → visual.#* ch. emerik. → interactions.#* ch. emerik. → musings.#* ch. emerik. → aesthetics.#* ch. emerik. → desires.#* ch. emerik. → headcanons.#saved

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miss-tina-susanne · 2 months ago

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Athenais lets out a sharp, pained wail, almost like a wounded animal as she collapses and crumbles, screaming in a way to suggest that she has barely scratched the surface of her own despair.

To Chuen, you send secretly: Athenais is visibly shaking as she reaches out to you. "You literally said... YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T COMING BACK, AND YOU WERE GOING ON ABOUT HOW I SHOULD MOVE ON. Do you fucking know how painful it is to hear that you should move on from someone you love?"

Athenais sits up, eyes wide, shivering from head to toe as she clutches the bedding and drags it to her chest.

Emerik blinks, confused as to what just happened and who just went running through the bedroom. Absently he rolls off you, falling to sit on the bedside; dumbfounded, processing.

Chuen tells you: I'm not upset You tell Chuen: You're not? I am.

Athenais is completely ashen, her brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and shock as she holds a pillow to her chest, seemingly lost in her thoughts. After a moment, she lifts her head, gazing towards you, brow furrowed.

Chuen tells you: I did tell you you should find someone else. I'm not even sure I'll stay. It would be silly of me to get upset over you following my advice. You tell Chuen: That's the problem, isn't it? I never wanted anyone else. I wanted you. Secretly: Chuen reaches out to touch your cheek with a few fingertips. "I wouldn't have you waiting for me forever, regardless."

Emerik scoots to the edge of the bed, his legs dropping off the side to hang at the knee. With his back slightly hunched and his head cast towards the floor at his feet he sighs softly; not sounding angry so much as... tired, "Was that..?" He didn't say the name, there was no need.

To Chuen, you send secretly: Athenais is visibly shaking as she reaches back out to you, shaking her head wordlessly, pain palpable in her voice and her consciousness. "Chuen, I—" Secretly: Chuen allows his hand to subside, shaking his head once. "I shall forever love you." To Chuen, you send secretly: Athenais lets out a weak little sob, reaching for your hand even as it subsides, then finally just collapses, seemingly at a loss. Within her mind, the ebb and flow of thought surges, as if overloaded with sentiments and emotions. There's pure, white hot rage. Fury. Despair. Loneliness. Love, for you, buried beneath an ocean of hurt and the agony of being left behind. The weak thrumming of hope, engulfed in the overwhelming mountain of weariness, wariness, and defeat.

Athenais appears to be completely engulfed within her own mind, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed. She stares at you for a moment, and for the first time since your introduction, the woman is perhaps more stranger than confidante - more madwoman than mage. Her eyes twitch just a touch, hands digging into the bedding beneath you, a weak, shaken breath escaping her lips. "I—"

Emerik's head lifts and turns to look over his shoulder at you, his forehead wrinkled with his furrowed brows as he searches you - not just your face, but all of you; from the position of your legs and arms to the wild expression in your eyes. "He's back," the rogue says simply, quietly. He leans over, reaching to the foot of the bed where his pants are and slides his feet in one at a time. "I should go," he says as he stands and pulls his pants up at the same time.

Visibly shivering where she is currently seated, alone, upon the bed, Athenais still manages to gaze up, your voice seemingly plucking her from whatever deep, dark pit of despair she has currently barricaded herself inside. Your words seem to strike her deep inside, drawing her from her reverie, and her eyes widen even further, mist turning the gold a dull, faded - heartbroken - ochre. She doesn't verbalize her thoughts, and perhaps she, herself, does not even know, the weakest, faintest shake of her head the only painful reminder of what she feels for you. With evident terror gripping her entire body, she somehow chokes back a sob, one hand moving to clutch her mouth as she slumps over and begins to sob in earnest.

To Emerik, you send secretly: Athenais' mind echoes all around yours, her trembling mental presence encased in despair with walls as thick as winter's ice. Even though she does not physically verbalize her thoughts, they swirl, whether by subconscious desire or desperate begging, all about you. And while it comes not of her lips, the sentiment is all too clear as it hangs thick within the space: Please don't leave me too..

Emerik hadn't intended to turn back around. Last looks back were for those who couldn't stand to look forward; he was already moving forward -- towards where he left the pile of his possessions. He falters when he hears your sob from behind, but before he could steel himself your emotions hit him through that telepathic medium like the crashing of a tsunami; it swept over him and washed away the disappointment and sadness he was wrestling so frantically to shove and lock away. He could sense the deep despair, he could feel it resonating deep within him in recesses of himself he had locked away and buried under years of booze. The only relief he felt from that pain - the pain he knew to be yours - were those swirling thoughts of him. He stood frozen for several long, painstakings breaths. Slowly he half-turned towards you, letting his gaze fall on you. His brows were downcast, eyes soft with consideration and his lips creased into a frown that ill-suited his countenance - several longer breaths passing before he moved again. Emerik swiveled slowly on the ball of his heel and took a single step forward, his arms opening in silent invitation.

Athenais exhales through gritted teeth, her expression broken as she lifts her tearstained, bruised face, her shoulders quaking and her knuckles pale from digging too deeply into the bedding beneath her knees. She gazes at you then, all dignity forgotten in the throes of her ugly crying: she is a creature of heartbreak and despair, eyeballs bloodshot, tears streaking down her face, snot and spit wetting her chin and lips. While your earlier words had seen to it that the woman had maybe expected you would have left her by now, the fact that you remain appears to be received with a quiet, desperate hope, shock that you care, and unspoken relief. She reaches a hand to you, evidently unable to move herself, the other covering her face as she continues to sob without a care for anything else but catharsis for wounds held too long against her breast.

Secretly: Emerik sent an image back through their connected minds. It started hazy, indiscernible, but gradually grew focused and more detailed as his untrained and unconditioned mind focused on what it was he wished to convey. Slowly you would see waves violently flying into the air in an explosion of mist and foam over and over and over again with such violent intensity than any one of which felt capable of sinking a ship. Soon it became clear enough to see that the waves broke on a single, fractured, worn rock - smooth where the water had washed away imperfections, yet jarring and jagged where the sea had delivered damaging debris. The image continued to play - not on repeat, but giving the sense that time was fast forwarded. Shadows formed on the jagged features and smooth alike as the sun passed overhead darkness fell and nothing could be seen except the glint of moonlight off the rock's wet surface. It became clear that time, in this image, was passing every faster. Like a flashing light, days passed, faster and faster. Throughout it all the waves crashed on that rock yet, no matter how hard the waves crashed. No matter how many days - years - flashed by, the rock relented. In the chaos of the crashing waves, it was steadfast. The message was simple: I will be your rock.

Emerik reaches out to your outstretched hand, capturing it in his, and pulls - or drags you kicking and screaming if he has to - to him; both arms wrapping around you tightly to pull your face to his chest. He didn't speak, having no words that could describe what it was he wished, there was no need to.

Athenais lets out a sharp, pained wail, almost like a wounded animal as she collapses and crumbles into your arms, screaming in a way to suggest that she has barely scratched the surface of her own despair. Perhaps only just now confronting all the pain and sorrow within her, she wails - a wraith, a baby, a lost soul - her fingers scraping into your back as she clings onto, and clutches you in earnest. Trembling from head to toe, she barely manages to stand upright, her entire weight thrust upon you even as her sorrows are imparted upon the space. She screams, again and again; overhead, the crystals begin to dance and swirl, slamming dangerously into their neighbors to fill the space in a cacophonous, bitter song. Winds swirl - several of the crystals crack, then shatter, raining precious stone upon the pair of you as she weeps, and weeps, and weeps.

Emerik closes his eyes tightly as he hears your screams and the hair on the back of his neck, his arms, and even his legs stood on edge; all sourcing from the ominous chill that crashes down his spine with the unfocused release of your magic. Through the crashing of the chandelier above, the swirling wind lifting stray locks of his brown hour. Then the crystals above shatter, his hand lifts instinctively to the top of your head, cradling it and pushing your face into his chest. When the last of the debris lay strawn on the floor his head lifted from your shoulder, tilted to look down at the top of your head. "Addy..." he said, a tremor of fear in his voice before he steeled himself and said again loudly, commanding, "Addy! *Look* at me," he moved his hand from the top of your head and moved it to your chin to suggest - but not force - you to look up at him; unsure if you could even hear him through your cocoon of despair.

The winds slowly die down, and the air within the room slowly begins to still. In the wake of the chaos, several tens of crystals lie shattered upon the floor and bed, papers scattered and books overturned. The pallid shroud which had before shielded the mirror from sight hangs loose to the ground, reflecting the full extent of the chaos. In your arms, Athenais sobs softly, her hands clutching you still as she remains hunched over, shoulders quaking and legs buckled beneath her. Naked as she is, it is all too clear when her magic fades away, perhaps from over-use, and perhaps from a lack of will to keep up appearances any more - a gentle shimmering like bubbling water washes down her back, then it is all revealed to you, every last scar and burn mark that dances in a dragon-scale weave from the left shoulderblade down to the waist, curling in to the corresponding side of her abdomen. She stares at you then, still sobbing, eyes wide, broken with grief as her hands clutch your forearms.

Emerik's wiry physique relaxes as the winds begin to fade and the room begins to settle, until finally dissipating into silence save for your sobs. If he was aware of the unveiled imperfections, there was no clue alluding to it in his expression. His brows were knitted with concern; his bronze-hued eyes intently focused into yours when your gaze lifted to meet him, both pools flickering as he searches your countenance. A few breaths later his expression softens and his voice lowers to a reassuring hush as he says, summoning all the bravado the charming rogues possesses, "It's goin' ta be a'right, Addy. Y'hear me?"

Athenais lets out a few shaken breaths, her eyes darting furtively about the room even as she struggles to hold back more sobs. At present, she appears barely able to see, much less make sense of everything. Indeed, all she sees is you, your eyes, your face, your person - unremarkable, perhaps to the world, but certainly not to her. With hands digging tightly into your forearms, she shifts her footing tentatively - then lets out a sharp cry as a crystal shard pierces her underfoot, sending rivers of blood flowing onto the wooden floor beneath even as she crumples into you, onto the floor.

Emerik appears to be waiting for something; but it was unlikely even he knew what it was that he was expecting. His hand left your chin and moved to your arm, his fingertips pressing into the supple muscle of your tricep as your thumb strokes her bicep. Both brows shoot up with your scream, and his gaze drops as he catches the movement of your leg recoiling from the shards of glass. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the blood, and the volume; likely knowing from similar experiences how deep such cuts could go - and how complicated they could be. With concern furrowing his brows his gaze flicked to the bed, where the blankets and sheets were littered with similar shards. He took a deep breath and by time he bore a full chest he had made a decision, "It's not safe in 'ere right now." With little effort he swoops you off your feet, holding you as he did the night previous. The crystals crunched and broke beneath his feet and his jaws rippled with the tight flexing of grit teeth biting back pained yelps and shuffled towards the door, leaving streaking bloody footprints in his wake. He stopped at his pile, shifted all of his weight to one foot - what shards under had not fragmented and cut him, did then - and with the other foot kicked his backpack out the door, following after it soon after.

Cottage Foyer

Closer to a hallway than an actual functioning foyer, this narrow space spans barely two metres across, with more than half that taken up by a flight of steep wooden stairs. With dark wood floors and walls painted over in a deep rust red, the space is afforded some sun by day, courtesy of a single narrow window beside the front door; a black iron lamp hangs overhead to wash the space in candlelight by night. A long narrow table is pushed right up to the wall parallel to these stairs, bearing a messy and packed mail cubby, a singular tower of stacked, smooth river stones, and a large china vase holding aloft a bouquet of old, crumbling blooms. A rectangular high pile rug dyed a deep gemstone carmine adds a hint of warmth in this otherwise haphazard space.

Obvious exits: porch, design, up and east.

Emerik.

Athenais blinks blearily at you, shivering from head to toe as she appears to be trying to make sense of the situation and where she is. Very little escapes her at present, the woman clearly emotional exhausted and physically drained - perhaps not even aware of how, or what had happened. She inhales sharply then, choking back a teary sob, then only just manages to rasp your name before slowly burying her face into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

Emerik stops outside the door to once again kick his backpack, this time more gently to send it skidding to a stop beside the stairs, and again follows after it with you in his arms. He takes three pained, limping steps down the stairs before stopping and turning. As if the top of the flight were a chair he settled you on it. Without speaking he reaches over to his backpack and pouches strapped to the inside of it, typically hidden between the pack itself and his frame. He reached into the backpack, but not finding what he looked for checked the far side pouch. From within a produced a small vial and took a long look at it before bringing it to his lips and pulling the cork from the top, "Take a sip," he tells you firmly, holding the vial out to you.

Athenais's eyes slowly roll back into her head, though at your insistence, she appears to regain just a hint of consciousness. Her hands prove useless, however, the vial falling free of her fingertips to simply land within the curve of her abdomen as she lolls within your arms, sapped of strength and unable to move. She gazes at you then, still blinking blearily, her gaze one of confusion, hopelessness, and, most palpable of all, guilt at the trouble she has caused you.

Emerik grows more concerned as he grows more aware of your condition. His heart skips a beat as the vial drops from your hand, some of the contents splashing out, wasted. Hastily he scoops the container from your belly, his thumb blocking the lip and lifts it to the light to measure how much remained -- not near enough to risk wasting. He brings the lip of the vial to his lips and empties it into his mouth before dropping it callously down the steps. The same hand takes your chin and turns your face to him, pulling your lips apart while helping to hold your head study. His lips sealed against your and all so slowly he let the bitter potion drizzle into your mouth as if delivering an antidote to the unconcious poisoned.

Athenais lets out a weak breath as you transfer the potion into her mouth - and thankfully, manages to swallow, droplets dribbling from the corners of her lips as they quaver, moistened by tears. She trembles within your grasp, her lashes fluttering as she seeks out your face and your eyes, blinking hard as if struggling to commit them to memory at present.

Emerik withdraws his mouth from yours as the last of the fluid is drained. He licks his lips, savoring what he could. He could feel even the almost insignificant amount of potion that had been absorbed into the mucous membranes of his cheeks and gums already started to reject the rainbow of shattered shards that had embedded in his flesh; pushing them from his body as the flesh knitted itself together from the inside out. Perhaps if he had more the wounds would have fully healed, but as it were the healing was incomplete. The smaller slices and gashes healed over fully but remained discoloured, tender slines' but the larger remained a swollen mass of bare pink flesh; what one would except to see after a few days of the body's natural healing. His eyes scanned your face, his hand sliding from your chin to wipe the drizzle of potion from the corner of your mouth. His brows remained furrowed as he watched you, holding your limp body loosely in his one arm. "Addy, can ya' hear me Addy?" He asks, the pitch of his tone high with concern and more than a touch of anxiety.

While her physical wounds do, indeed, begin to knit together, Athenais remains pale and unmoving in your embrace, her ashen skin cool to the very touch. The gold in her eyes softens as they seem to mist over, and she studies you with vaguely furrowed brows, her voice barely perceptible as she whispers, "W-what happened?"

Emerik sighs a breath of relief upon seeing the first hints of alertness; his entire body relaxed as tension ebbed from him - she was going to be okay. "I d'nno," he says softly, his gaze set to yours, "I think ya' lost control of ya' magic." As he speaks his hand moves to your cheek, grazing it with the back of his knuckles, concern oozing off his every syllable as he asks in a hushed tenor, "Are ya' a'right?"

Athenais allows her head to loll lifelessly back, though her eyes remain upon yours. She swallows hard, the motion visible beneath the skin and muscle of her neck, hands deathly cold as she tries to raise them to reach for yours. "You stayed," She croaks, hoarse and barely perceptible, sheer marvel and gratitude at your devotion palpable in her quavering cadence. "'m sorry... for putting you through this... "

Emerik lifts his hand from you to take one of your weak, trembling hands in his and guided it to his cheek for you, holding it there - knowing you did not have the strength to do so yourself. "Of course I did," he says in a whisper, "I couldn't leave you to that pain by yourself."

Emerik would be worried if not for the lift and fall of your chest with your breathing and your brief period of lucidity prior. Slowly he stood, cradling your sleeping form to his chest and made his way back through the bedroom door - skirting the edges of the mess instead of having to tredge through the epicenter, managing to avoid anymore damage to his feet, carrying you to the bathroom where he would deposit your sleeping form in the bathtub. He'd disappear from the room for a moment before reappearing with his cloak in hand and drapes it over your sleeping form. A tender kiss is planted to your forehead and, as he withdraws, his gaze lingers on you; sadness tugging a frown on his lips. Slowly he turns and makes his way out, back into the bedroom.

#athenais susanne alliette #character inspirations: athenais #roleplay logs #emerik anderson #chuen #still fucking despise emerik but tina losing control of her magic is chef's kiss #also it's much less about emerik and more about how deeply she mourned chuen let's bffr #that man turned her world #and hung her sun and stars #she looked at him like he was the sun

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diemauer · 3 months ago

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emerik tags

* ch. emerik. → visual.

* ch. emerik. → interactions.

* ch. emerik. → musings.

* ch. emerik. → aesthetics.

* ch. emerik. → desires.

* ch. emerik. → headcanons.

#* ch. emerik. → visual.#* ch. emerik. → interactions.#* ch. emerik. → musings.#* ch. emerik. → aesthetics.#* ch. emerik. → desires.#* ch. emerik. → headcanons.#saved

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winglesswriter · 9 months ago

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Search Your Manuscript tag

Thank you for the tag @rachaellawrites ❤

📝 Search for the given words in your WIP. If you don't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning with help from thesaurus.com

From Foreigner God

live

Like many other Carraredians, Emerik chose to live in constant guilt about who he was.

pages

Yarren understood how special it was for him to be brought here and shown The Book so he watched in awe as his mother ran her fingers over the cover reverently before she opened it. The pages were made dark and fragile by time.

drizzle

He knows that his body acted out his feelings for Yarren, feelings that he's finally ready to give a name to as he watches Yarren's sated smile in the dim light. "Yarren, I-" "The storm is over," Yarren interrupts him, eyes on the window. He's right, the downpour has turned into a drizzle and the clouds are dissipating, the sky lightening. "We should clean up and get on the road," he adds as he sits up.

slap

His only advantage is that his lack of armor makes him faster. He drops the paddle and runs. His bare feet slap on the cold floors, their sound drowned out by the heavy thumps of the guard’s quick steps.

No pressure tag for: @thistles-trove, @beginning-of-wisdom, @i-do-anything-but-write, @wolgerrswraith, @orion-lacroix

@lychhiker, @bleakandhollow, @onlyinitforthefandoms, @tamiveldura, @elrallin + OPEN TAG!

Your words are: bloom, shatter, comb and knowledge

#tag game #manuscript search

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jitterbugbear · 11 months ago

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⚠️ new elf oc ⚠️

#proceed with caution #he sells trinkets and knick knacks and... other stuff #emerik #ocs #fantasy art #jitterbugbear art #artists on tumblr #illustration #i almost died drawing those hands they may not look like it but that is the honest truth of the matter #one word about astarion and i'll kill you i still haven't played bg3 #they are not the same

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renofmanyalts · 1 year ago

Note

(moods) Wistful for Emerik/any

Send me a mood and I will tell you how my character deals with it.

Prompt 1 (Make-up Day): Envoy

Who: Emerik Liubasch, Semir (original NPC)

What: Emerik must lighten his pack.

Where: A rail yard on the outskirts of Martrvje, a port city in occupied Bozja.

When: About two years before the events of the Bozjan Southern Front field operation began. Takes place a few months after this piece [Mature community label, requires login].

Content notes: Garlean colonial oppression, refugee struggles, partings in wartime, mentioned injury/abuse

Music: "Intro (The Envoy)" and "Outro (What It Means to Be Human)" by Being as an Ocean (both instrumental)

When a soft knock sounded at the door of the railroad car, a faint murmur of concern rippled through the two dozen heads scattered amongst the stacks of crates. Emerik's heart thudded in his chest, fur standing on end as he uncrossed his arms. He felt Semir do the same beside him, their elbows brushing.

The boxcar was still at rest, one freight car among many in a long train waiting to leave the rail yard on the outskirts of the city. Had they been discovered? His fingers itched for the smooth wood of his staff, but it, like nearly everything else he owned, had been left behind. It would have been foolishness, in any case, bringing a weapon — no matter how simple. Emerik tugged at the cuffs on his borrowed jacket, the final piece of a traveling outfit intended to soften his features, to render him polished and nonthreatening.

After an eternity of rapid heartbeats, the door slid open a few ilms, a sliver of just-bluing sky showing around the silhouette of a hrothgar with one ragged ear. Emerik relaxed a fraction. That was their contact — the member of the Resistance that Semir had nodded to in a coffee shop four sennights ago, setting all this in motion. Emerik did not know his name. Gods willing, he would keep it that way.

The partisan pulled the door further open on well-oiled, silent tracks, climbed nimbly up onto the deck, and slid it closed again. The darkness returned.

"Bad news," the soldier said, speaking quietly. His voice sounded young. It had surprised Emerik when they first met, and it still seemed incongruous now. "We were given old information, and the expected gross weight for this car is slated to be a half-tonze less than we had accounted for. We have to reduce weight, or the Garleans will notice the discrepancy the minute we pass through the first checkpoint."

"Will... will someone have to get off the train?" The hesitant voice came from somewhere left of the door — the mother with her two young ones, Emerik thought. The little family had been huddled together when he and Semir had arrived at the rail yard, the children sleeping with their mother's skirts wrapped around their shoulders. Emerik could picture Semir's deep frown when he'd seen the swollen bruises on her face.

The soldier's voice took on an apologetic tone beneath his urgency. "Maybe. But I am hoping that we can reduce baggage weight, instead. Please go through your luggage and remove anything that is not absolutely essential to your survival on the trip, as well as anything that is particularly heavy."

Worried whispers rose in the darkness, and the soldier continued:

"This is not an easy task, I know, and I am sorry that I must ask it of you. You number twenty-four, so we need to eliminate more than forty ponzes of weight per person. Keep your necessary medicine, food and water, your identification papers, and money. Put it in a pillowcase or wrap it in a cloth to carry it. If you have jewelry, keep whatever you can hide on your person, and whatever clothes you can put on, plus a blanket and pillow each. Everything else, including your trunks and cases, please separate it out and set it by the door. Quietly and quickly, please."

"What will happen to our belongings?" That was the voice of an older man with an accent speaking of the wealthier parts of the city. He was accompanied by a young woman Semir figured for his daughter, though Emerik was not so sure.

"I'm afraid they will probably be destroyed. We cannot hide them here, and we have no way to get them to you once you have left, so we will have to dispose of them quickly — most likely in the river."

For a long moment, dead silence reigned. Emerik's thoughts drifted to the contents of his leather suitcase. What clothes he had, he wore — and some that weren't his, besides. He had no jewelry nor medicine, and all his earthly wealth sat in a pouch strapped below his shirt. Everything else had been sold in haste. Semir carried only their sack of shared provisions; there was nothing there to shed.

The suitcase, though.... It held a full dresser drawer's worth of treasure: a tin of long beeswax tapers, their wicks still conjoined; more than a dozen large blocks of herbal soaps, their paper wrappings labeled in his grandmother's handwriting. They sat heavy between his feet — heavier still with their role as the last fragments of his family's traditions.

The soap would sink easily in the river, he thought. Old as they were, the bars would dissolve slowly, and their flecks of rosemary, chamomile, marjoram would be carried away by the current.

The candles would float. Maybe some curious animal would eat them, or maybe some enterprising young scavenger would find them first. After decades hidden away, maybe they would finally have their chance to burn.

Someone flicked on a magitek torch. Cold, blue light washed thinly over the boxcar's high ceiling. The other occupants sprang into startled motion, flinging open trunks and boxes with grim purpose.

At a touch to his elbow, Emerik turned to meet his friend's eyes. Semir wore an expression of gentle concern

"That is your whole purpose in going, is it not?" he said, nodding to the suitcase.

Emerik directed his gaze across the dim train car and nodded. (The stack of discarded belongings at the door was growing, but only very slowly. "I must ask you to be ruthless," the Resistance soldier said. Panic fluttered at the edges of his too-young voice. "The train departs in just over a quarter bell.")

Ruthless?

Emerik bent to snatch up the suitcase. He could do nothing but rue its loss — but there were lives on the line. What use a people's healing traditions without a people to use them?

But before he could step out from the bulkhead, Semir stopped him, one tawny hand laid lightly on Emerik's dark one. Emerik shot him a questioning glance, and Semir leaned down to speak into his ear.

"It's not going to be enough." Semir gestured toward the pile near the door. Still growing, but nowhere near a half-tonze. "Most of these folk didn't have forty ponzes of sentiment to pack. Even if everyone trims the fat, they're going to have to send some of us away. At least one."

Emerik narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying, Semir."

Semir closed his fingers around the handle of the suitcase. In the light of the Garlean torch, his golden eyes held none of their usual luster. "Let me hold these for you. When you get where you're going, send a letter, yes? I'll get them to you."

"But—"

"I know. I thought we would travel together, too. We—" Semir stopped, swallowed.

(We three as one, the sentence finished in Emerik's mind, his own voice raised in chorus with Semir and Vuk. But they hadn't been three for some moons now.)

Emerik pushed the thought away. Semir was speaking again, so close that his breath stirred the fur-tufts in Emerik's ear.

"I have connections," he insisted, nodding meaningfully to the increasingly-fretful partisan. "There's good I can do here. But you?" Semir tapped one finger against Emerik's forehead. "You have the memories — and the drive to chase down the knowledge needed to resurrect them. And with that blond bastard" — Emerik flinched — "nipping at your hocks? Best not to wait for the next run."

Emerik ducked his head. He could feel his pulse thudding in his throat.

With a snarl, he shoved the suitcase into Semir's arms, then snapped his teeth shut before any other sound could escape. Leaning forward, he thumped his forehead into Semir's solid shoulder.

Emerik felt Semir nose at his mane, and he could guess that he was smiling; when he murmured, "Keep my jacket safe for me," Emerik was certain of it. Then Semir pulled away, threading through the chaos. After a short exchange with the Resistance partisan — who looked rather relieved — he moved toward the sliding door.

"Semir—"

Semir twisted to look at him, still cradling the suitcase to his chest.

Emerik forced himself to meet his friend's eyes, trying not to think about the last time he had looked into Vuk's. "If you don't hear from me within a few moons," he managed, "or if things get bad... use whatever you need, if it will help."

Semir nodded. A blink, and he was slipping out of the boxcar door, climbing out into the twilight.

Emerik bent to pick up the sack of provisions and settled it between his feet. It, too, sat heavy.

With a sigh, Emerik nudged the sack into a corner. He pushed up his sleeves, then went to help hand the surrendered belongings down to those waiting to take them away.

—

At this stage in his life — before he had come to Eorzea — Emerik was prone to falling into black, destructive moods rather than wistful ones, and also tended not to express much of that if he could avoid it. Now that he is out from under the direct weight of the Garlean occupation, however, he's settled into some measure of acceptance and is better able to attend to such feelings as gentle melancholy and yearning.

—

I sorta ran myself out of spoons yesterday and so I really struggled today. The length also got away from me, but I sure did learn a lot in all my diving down research rabbit holes! Got a bunch of Bozja lore and stuff settled and obviously filled in more details of Emerik's backstory. I've also just decided to give myself a fair bit of grace about that daily deadline, because the point is NOT to stress myself out — thus posting this about, mm, three hours late. XD

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv rp #mateus #mateus rp #meme #answers #send me a mood #emerik #long post #ren writing #thanks for the ask!#menord #also thanks go to don pom for getting out the plot trampoline for me #that successfully got me unstuck \o/

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