#ffxiv biggs

[fourfoldfires]

pray return.

[14kuponuts]

Without them, things can’t be done~

HES SO RIDICULOUS

KEIAN WILL DO ANYTHING

[plenary-indulgence]

after work nap pile with the homies

[zoruathemageknight]

lmao I beat Stormblood

[fourteentheart]

Sometimes I need to draw non-xiv guys when I scribble. And there are still xiv guys here 😂

[bigpuppyroegadyn]

Day 7 - ShB Allied Societies

Hound is always too polite to comment on things constructed too small for him, not that he expected the dwarves to build for his size...but their insistence on making him ride the tank seemed more like pranking than the thoughtlessness he's used to! (looking at u, Garlond Ironworks)

[roegadynroost]

Misc shots of Hellie and Mellie going through Omegascape!

[moxxifoxxi]

So many ads trying to make me simp for virtual men but if I wanted to do that I can log on to Final Fantasy 14 with the free trial up to lv70 including both the Heavensward and Stormblood expansions

[rabid-catboy]

whys he like that!!!!!!!

[twilight-owl]

*chucks some Miis into the interwebz*

Here's a really ridiculous thing I've been doing.

I.e. creating an entire island of Final Fantasy characters on Tomodachi Life.

Apologies, if some of the outfits don't match! I did this over a couple of days and a few of them changed their clothes.

[wolpromptaday]

#WOLpromptAday

May 4, 2024

MAY THE 4TH BE WITH YOU!

Real question, would your WOL be a Jedi or a Sith? Would they be a senator, a commoner? Rebel or Imperial? Why? Without changing anything, what moment in their current lore led them down this path?

[nedsseveredhead]

Cid: Alright boys I just slammed back ten 5-hour energies, lets invent some crazy ass mech the warrior of light can use in one fight then never talk about again!

Biggs: ROIT DEN. GUESS WEH GEHTTIN OVAH TIME, AY WEDGE?

Wedge:

[kannedia]

21/6 [ARR] - This is New

Occurs during Crystal Tower questline.

Oscar accidentally flirts with his maybe crush.

"You know how cruel children can be." G'raha finished with a sigh. He didn't bother to look up.

Oscar hadn't said anything. For a mercy, there were no apologies. There weren't any of Oscar's many usual questions either. Which meant Oscar was probably staring.

"Hmmm…" Oscar half hummed.

G'raha glanced up at him quickly before backing away. Oscar had leaned forward ever so slightly. Considering his elezen stature, it was probably more into his personal space than Oscar had intended.

"They remind me of… hmm…" Oscar continued, his brow creased. He looked as though he were trying to remember something. "They remind me of the stars Alberio. Very pretty."

Well. That was certainly a new one. Pretty? For a moment G'raha couldn't help but wonder if Oscar was flirting with him. No. He was probably calling the stars pretty.

Putting that aside, G'raha could vaguely recall said stars coming up in his reading before. Something felt off with the comparison. He looked back up at Oscar, who was standing up straight again.

"You are referring to part of the Cygnus constellation, my friend?" G'raha questioned with mild amusement.

Oscar nodded with his usual grin.

"…Then if I recall correctly said stars are yellow and blue." G'raha corrected.

Which earned him a nod and a quiet thoughtful noise from Oscar. "True, but they shine just as brightly."

G'raha glanced away again. It would be best to end the conversation there.

[sparrowsong-7]

FFXIVWrite Day 18: Hackneyed

“Oh come on” Mel bemoaned as she ran her hands over the cold steel of the Manacutter, “Surely you can do better than this?”

Biggs looked incredulous. “What do you mean!” he cried, slapping his hand against the airship, “It’s a Manacutter! It’s as reliable as they come!”

Mel shook her head as she walked away. “Reliable, sure I’ll give it that” she admitted, climbing atop the Biggs workstation as though it were public seating, “But does it have to be so… hackneyed?” She reached over and started idly futzing with his tools.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” he cried again, stomping over and ripping one of his wrenches from the woman’s hands. “It’s an Ironworks classic!”

Mel ripped the wrench away from its owner before he could hang it back up. “Yes, and everyone and their skypirate uncle has one, I want something with more style, you know?” she grimaced as she looked at the vehicle, “More power maybe?”

From his little workstation in the corner, Wedge piped up. “More power you say?” he questioned, hand placed thoughtfully on his chin in contemplation. His mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Oh I can give you more power.”

Biggs took half a second to process what his friend was planning before stomping over towards him. “No” he said plainly before reiterating, “No! You’re not killing the bleeding Warrior of Light with that godsforsaken thing!”

Mel’s ears perked up. “You have my attention Wedge” she called, hopping off the table towards the man, “Explain.”

Wedge’s grin didn’t fade as he beckoned her over toward a tarp cover shape on the other side of the workshop. He grabbed the tarp and ripped it off in dramatic fashion to set the mood. “I give you the Garlond Ironworks Falcon MK II!” he cried in joy, “A marvel of both speed and style!”

Mel whistled and she gently ran her hand over the sleek front end, admiring how compact the design was. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch” Biggs interjected, “Is that the last fool who flew that thing is still in critical condition!”

Wedge shook his head. “I’ve made all the adjustments! It’s completely safe to fly now! Probably…”

The two men continued their bickering as Mel continued to admire the machine. She settled herself into the cockpit and gripped the controls, grinning to herself. “I’ll take it!” she interjected.

[janzoo]

The Ironworks Gang Hands Out Starlight Gifts

Read it on AO3 above (registered users only) or under the readmore below -

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva, Maelie/Ronantain Characters: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) - Character, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) - Character, Cid nan Garlond, Nero tol Scaeva, Biggs (Final Fantasy XIV), Wedge (Final Fantasy XIV), Maelie (Final Fantasy XIV), Ronantain (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Oneshot, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Christmas, Starlight Celebration (Final Fantasy XIV), Nero tol Scaeva being Nero tol Scaeva, Fluff, Funny Summary:

It's Starlight in the Firmament, and the Ironworks Gang is joined by WoL Kyler Drake in handing out gifts!

Oh wait, what's this? NERO TOL SCAEVA WITH THE STEEL CHAIR?!

                Kyler smirked as he watched Cid fiddle with his Starlight hat again. “You know, it would probably sit better if you removed your goggles.”

                Cid shrugged. “It’ll stay long enough as it is. We’re nearly out of toys, anyway.”

                A fair point. Kyler’s toy sack was considerably lighter, and from the looks of it, Cid’s, Biggs’, and Wedge’s were, too. Wedge waved farewell to two children as they departed with new toys in tow. His toys had been particularly well-received, being a new invention: a toy airship that could shift and click until it transformed into a warrior. He called them Changers, though he could’ve called them anything and the children still would’ve been clamouring for them. Kyler’s toy toolsets came in at a close second in popularity. He took a particular note of pride and hope in inspiring the next generation of craftspeople and engineers, especially in the Firmament. After one thousand years of destruction, Ishgardians seemed ready and eager to see what they could create.

                “Thank you for joinin’ us, Kyler,” Biggs said as he placed a hand on Kyler’s shoulder. “Means a lot to the wee ones, getting’ a gift from the Warrior of Light and all.”

                Kyler nodded with a small, sincere smile.

                Biggs continued with his other hand raised in a pointed finger. “And that’s what this whole kerfuffle’s about, ain’t it? Much as Jessie says that this’ll help promote the business as well, it’s worth doin’ even if there weren’t no business to promote in the first place.”

                “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

                Biggs’ eyes widened beneath his goggles. “Nero?”

                Their gazes turned to Nero as he approached. Two mammets carrying a large sack followed in his wake. Judging from the corners jutting against the heavy fabric, and the uniform shape, it contained several boxes.

                Nero smirked and removed his sunglasses as he came to a stop. “Come now, genius and generosity are not mutually exclusive. There’s no reason why we can’t show off while being charitable at the same time. Especially when we’ve so much to show off in the first place. Well, I do, at least.”

                “Happy Starlight to you too, Nero,” Cid replied, deadpan.

                “What’s that you’ve got with you?” asked Wedge, one hand to his chin in curiosity.

                “Why, Starlight gifts, of course. Made by me.” Nero paused to look around. “Where can I find more children? This would be far more convenient and economical if they gathered someplace where we could find them instead of the other way around, but I suppose I can only expect so much from Eorzeans.”

                “There’s two over yonder, by that statue,” said Wedge, pointed to them.

                “’By that statue’ in Ishgard could be anywhere,” Nero remarked and put his sunglasses back on. “Come along, then. All of you, not just the mammets.”

                As fate had it, they weren’t just any children – at least, not to Kyler. As they approached, they overheard Ronantain pleading with Maelie.

                “You will be welcome in our house, Maelie, I promise.”

                “Are you sure? I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout fine dinin’, and I ain’t got anything fancy to wear.”

                “My uncle could teach you the basics of proper dining etiquette. And we could buy you a dress. Consider it a Starlight present.”

                Kyler’s smile widened as they reached the children. “Hello Maelie, Ronantain.”

                The children looked to him. Maelie gasped. “Kyler!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “Happy Starlight!”

                “Happy Starlight,” Ronantain added with a smile and a bow of his head.

                “Happy Starlight,” returned Kyler with gentle laughter in his voice. “Can we have a moment of your time?”

                The children nodded with Maelie’s “uh-huh” and Ronantain’s “very well”.

                “Judgin’ from those Saint hats most of you are wearin’, are you all Helpers?” asked Maelie.

                Kyler nodded.

                Nero stepped in with a flourish of his arms. “I hope you children are ready for the greatest Starlight gift you’ve ever received. Everything before will pale in comparison, and everything to follow will be rendered underwhelming. Kyler, if you wouldn’t mind…” He indicated to the sack the mammets were carrying.

                Wedge nudged Nero’s leg and hissed under his breath, “You’ve got some nerve asking him of all people to be your bag boy!”

                Nero glanced down. “We’re Helpers today, aren’t we? Why wouldn’t Kyler want to help me bestow these children with gifts?”

                “It’s fine, Wedge,” said Kyler. “Today, at least.” He gave a pointed look at Nero, who shrugged with a victorious grin. Kyler retrieved two of the boxes from within the sack. He handed them to Nero, who handed them to the children.

                Ronantain read the text printed on the top of the boxes: “’Nero tol Scaeva Presents The Simple-Serve Oven’.” He arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean to say that there is an entire oven in this box?”

                “I do. Well, a miniature one, inspired by the cooking sets used by those of the Culinarians’ Guild but designed to be so simple that even tykes such as yourselves can use them.”

                “’Tykes’? With all do respect, ser, we may be children, but we are not infants,” Ronantain countered, his brows furrowed.

                Nero shrugged. “Children these days, my goodness. So ungrateful.”

                Maelie finished prying open the top of her gift box and cooed. “Ronantain, I think this really is a wee little oven.” She looked to him, excitement brightening her features. “We can bake treats for the patients at Ser Vaindreau’s!”

                Ronantain blinked at her. “Oh, I-I don’t know how to bake.”

                “I can show you! I remember baking with my mum when I was little…I think. It’s not so hard – you just put the ingredients together, mix ‘em up, and put ‘em in the oven.”

                “I can share a few easy recipes with you next time I come to Ser Vaindreau’s,” added Kyler. “I’m sure the patients will love them.”

                Maelie smiled at Kyler before turning to Nero. “Thank you so much for the gift, Mister Helper! We’ll put it to good use. Won’t we, Ronantain?”

                Ronantain cleared his throat, composing himself. “Aye, that we shall. Thank you very much for these gifts.”

                “Much better,” said Nero. “You’re welcome. Run along, now. You’ve got treats to bake and, uh, more of whatever it is you children do.”

                Both Maelie and Ronantain looked at Nero with a confusion-pinched brows for a moment. Then Maelie shrugged.

                “Let’s take these to Ser Vaindreau’s and set them up. Charlemend is there already, I’m sure he can help us if he’s not too busy already,” she said. “Bye Kyler! And Kyler’s friends! Thanks again!”

                “Farewell for now,” added Ronantain. As the children walked away, Kyler and company heard him say to Maelie, “Speaking of my uncle, he and I really would love to have you over for our family’s Starlight dinner. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

                “It does sound nice. And…you’d really be willin’ to buy me a fancy dress for it?”

                “As fancy as you please. Like a sentinel tree ornament.”

                The last they heard of Ronantain and Maelie’s conversation was Maelie giggling.

                Biggs, Wedge, and Kyler fell into a conversation about what to do with the dregs of their toy bags – if they should combine them all into one, where to go next to finish them off, where to go afterwards for a good drink to celebrate. Cid stood next to Nero as their discussion began.

                “I’m impressed,” Cid commented as he put a hand on the back of Nero’s arm. “Even if I’m also waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

                “There’s no other shoe. I suppose you could say that the Saviour of Eorzea is rubbing off on me. Fighting alongside him instead of against him in Garlemald had me thinking. This is my gift to him, in a sense.”

                “That and showing off your genius is something of a gift in its own right, isn’t it?”

                “Oh, very much so. And speaking of gifts…” Nero reached into his coat and withdrew a once-folded piece of paper, which he handed to Cid.

                Cid eyed the paper for a moment before taking it. “Nero, if this is another invoice…”

                Nero smiled.

                Cid unfolded the paper. His brows furrowed. “This is a…a reservation confirmation for The Bismark?”

                “For two. In two day’s time.”

                Cid looked to Nero. “I don’t know what to say…and I haven’t gotten a gift for you yet.”

                “Just be there. And remember to wipe the grease and dirt from your face this time.”

                Cid chuckled sheepishly. “Right. That much I can do.”

                “I know.” Nero lowered his glasses, winked at Cid, and put them back into place. “Ah, ‘twould seem that Kyler’s spotted some more rugrats.” The two of them – and Nero’s mammets – began following Kyler. Nero looked to Cid as he noticed him fiddling with his hat. “That would likely sit better if you remove your goggles.”

                Cid removed his hat and offered it to Nero. “Perhaps you’d rather wear it instead.”

                “I’m not feeling that generous.”

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 19 - Taken

Garlemald was cold. But Garlemald was always cold, and Fareena had faced worse winters in Bozja. Garlemald was hostile. But Garlemald had been hostile since its inception, chased into the frozen wastes for their perceived lack and turning it into a still-burning grudge. Garlemald was oppressive. But Garlemald could not help but oppress. Its leader had made it so in his mad quest to stamp out all other nations.

No, Garlemald irked Fareena because it was so decidedly dull. Grey roads, grey buildings, grey clothes. As if the sight of any colour that wasn’t some shade of grey, white or red would kill the already frail emperor. Still, it meant that Fareena could slip in relatively unnoticed, wearing the “borrowed” uniform of a soldier who had ventured away from his unit. By the time they found his body in the snow, she’d be long gone. With a little luck, anyway.

The VIIth legion had made a pit-stop in Garlemald after turning Bozja into a smoking wasteland. Fareena intended to find out why. Even if it meant jamming her ears into the stuffiest helmet known to viera-kind and learning the Garleans’ damned salutes. Luckily the Garelans’ relatively large size disparity leant itself well to her larger-than-most stature. So long as she didn’t speak, none would suspect her. And it was easy enough to act busy with a rusty gunblade as the soldiers gossiped around her. Darnus’s success at Bozja was the talk of the town, it seemed.

Fareena bit down the urge to burn the entire barracks to cinders as the brutes called her people “savages”. She needed to make a clean getaway, unfortunately. Even if the thought of slipping into the palace and hurrying along old Solus to his well-earned grave was an all-too-tempting thought.

“Sounds like Solus is ready to finally bring Eorzea to heel,” declared a soldier who really should have learned to keep his voice down. Stifled though they were by the helmet, Fareena’s ears twitched in his direction. “Still, sending Legatuses van Darnus AND van Baelsar? He must be desperate to claim them.”

The Black Wolf and the White Raven? Fareena’s stomach churned as an awful certainty rose within her. They’re going to leave nothing but ashes if the Raven is involved.

“Desperate? No, he just knows Baelsar will keep that madman on a tight leash.” It seemed one of the other soldiers agreed with her. “Did you hear what really happened in Bozja? Half a legion, dead! All because of that secret project Midas nan Garlond’s been playing around with!” Fareena fought the urge to twist around in her seat. Garlond? Where had she heard that name before? She cursed her inattentiveness when the Resistance briefings had been circulated. Too busy out in the snow, murdering Garleans. Clashing with legatuses. Licking her wounds.

“Careful, boy.” The original soldier’s voice was lower now. Much more cautious than before. “That kind of talk carries a lot of weight, especially with the Raven’s star on the rise.” Smart, for an imperial. Perhaps in another life he could have been a good man. But he’d bathed in the blood of empire just as all the rest. And you’ll burn with it when I tear it all down around you. Fareena’s hands clenched instinctively around the handle of her borrowed gunblade. It would be so easy to carve a path of destruction through this place. Through these people. They’d deserve it, too. For what they did to Bozja. For what they did to me.

A sudden muffled boom sounded, followed by a series of tremors and smaller booms. A moment later alarms began to sound. Apparently someone else had infiltrated the city, and with a great deal less subtlety than Fareena. The soldiers were in disarray, all hurrying around to obtain discarded armour and weapons, or to find the rest of their unit and investigate. Fareena knew an opportunity to slip away when she had it waved in front of her nose so flagrantly. Nobody noticed a single soldier in the crush, just as nobody noticed that soldier break away and into the city proper.

Garlond. She was certain she’d heard it before. Something about a Garlond ferried out of Bozja before the city had fallen. A possible lead. If only she had any idea where to find it. She could follow the sound of explosions to its source, but something about them felt… off, somehow. Out in the night air, she could see the smoke plumes rising from the eastern quarter of the city. But from what she had been able to tell, it was just storage sheds out that way. A poor place to target for someone looking to do real damage. So…

Without really thinking about it, Fareena headed south instead. She kept to the shadows, dark armour blending in perfectly as all eyes turned towards the growing blaze. Screams were starting to rise now, more fear than pain. The citizens suddenly realising they weren’t as safe as they thought. That Garlemald wasn’t invincible after all. There would be repercussions for this, but for now the city was too stunned to lash out. As Fareena slipped into the residential quarter, she felt no sympathy at all for it.

The lights were mostly out this late at night, bar a few of the more alert sleepers suddenly waking to chaos and flame. But the fires would never reach this part of the city, and most knew it. The wealthiest of Garlemald’s people suffered the least for its sins. So it was the world over. Bozja, for all its shining beauty, had been no different. Still, Fareena had no time to philosophise. Her eyes were drawn to one house in particular. Its lights were off, but the same could not be said for the large extension attached to it. She could faintly hear the sound of machinery. Either someone hadn’t heard the explosions… or they were already prepared for them.

Fareena crept towards the building, silent as a ghost. Her heart was racing now. Did Garlemald have a traitor right in its heart? Would she find someone willing to tear down the vile empire from within? Or was this simply a madman with an axe to grind, sowing devastation and fear simply because it suited them? She knew not, but she intended to find out.

The ring of metal grinding against metal was clear now, even through her helmet. It was tempting to tear it off entirely, but a viera in Garlemald was unheard of, and enough soldiers were familiar with her reign of terror in Bozja that she didn’t want to risk it. Better to keep her anonymity. She crept towards the door, noting this close that it was slightly ajar. That explained the light spilling out into the street. She could see a figure hunched over a slab of metal, back turned to the door and clearly occupied. Perfect.

Fareena nudged the door open, just wide enough to slip inside and-

A length of very sharp steel was thrust towards her neck. Fareena lurched back on instinct, only to tumble over a length of cable. The hulking man wielding the steel lunged forward, only to tumble forward himself. Fareena scrambled out of the way as he crashed to the floor with a thud, reaching for her gunblade… which had been knocked loose by her fall, and now lay at the feet of… a lalafell? Who, with shaking hands, wielded a pistol of Garlean make.

“S-stay where you are!” he shouted through trembling hands and voice. His goggles obscured his eyes, but Fareena could guess at what lay under them. “Don’t move!”

The first man had stopped his work, turning to face them. He froze when he saw the armour-clad Fareena. “You got a good aim on her, Wedge?” The lalafell nodded. He did not, and Fareena knew it, but he didn’t need it when she was this close. “Good,” said the man. His white hair matched the steel in his gaze, but he looked young. Barely in his late 20s, if Fareena had to guess. “Pull the trigger, and make it quick. We’re almost ready.”

“Chief!” cried Wedge as Fareena at the same time cried, “Wait!” The larger man had gotten to his feet now, still clutching what Fareena could now see was a sharpened length of pipe. His grip was steadier than his companion’s, Fareena noted. More sure of himself, or simply more used to violence. Either way, dangerous.

The man, apparently named Chief, paused. “That voice,” he muttered in what he clearly hoped was quiet enough for Fareena not to hear.

“Let me take off my helmet,” Fareena continued, heart pounding like an overexcited spriggan. She desperately hoped they wouldn’t be her final words. A long moment of silence stretched on before Chief finally nodded. Wedge’s aim wavered slightly. The larger man’s did not. Slowly, very slowly, Fareena tugged free her helmet. A rush of cold ear and relief flooded her massive ears as they sprang free, along with her tumble of fern-green hair.

“Well, I’ll be…” Chief stepped forward, offering Fareena a hand. The other two men tensed, but were waved off with Chief’s spare hand. “Mistress Hagen, right?” Now it was Fareena’s turn to tense. She still took the offered arm, letting herself be lifted to her feet. “Cid Garlond. Pleasure to finally meet the man my father cursed so. Only wish the circumstances of our union were better.”

Garlond. The pieces clicked into place. The scientist’s son, rushed out of Bozja with a major gunshot wound. His father, Midas nan Garlond, who had detonated the prototype weapon to finally end the Bozjan Resistance, at the cost of his life. Apparently the boy had survived, and was now… what? Tinkering with machines in his father’s garage? Fareena let herself look around for the first time. Machinery littered the walls, the floor, every inch of the surprisingly large space. But taking centre-stage was an airship. A rather small one, but large enough for…

Ah. Of course. This is their escape vehicle.

Cid smiled as Fareena put two and two together. “Afraid you walked in on our little getaway, so we can’t stay and chat. But someone has to put a stop to my father’s mad plans.” He didn’t know. News had not yet reached him of Midas nan Garlond’s death. Fareena opened her mouth to tell him, then thought better of it. Instead, another thought sprang to mind.

“The bombs were your doing, I take it?” Fareena noted Cid wince immediately as the words left her mouth. Not a man used to violence, apparently.

“Aye, that was me. Needed to keep the city’s eyes off us. Won’t get another chance like this for a long time.” Cid turned to his accomplices. “Biggs, Wedge, get us ready for takeoff. Time’s wasting.” Wedge nodded immediately, trotting off to perform his final checks. Wedge was less convinced.

“Are you sure about this, Chief? I know you’ve heard of her and all, but who’s to say she didn’t come here on Darnus’s orders?”

Fareena’s eyes flashed dangerously as she whirled to face the roegadyn. “I would sooner die. That man took everything from me. I will do the same to him.”

Her voices echoed into silence. Then, abruptly, Cid laughed. He barked his amusement into the garage, but his laughter swiftly descended into coughing and groaning. He clutched his side, waving off the large man’s clear panic. “I’ll be fine, Biggs. Just need to watch my wound, that’s all.” Cid straightened with obvious pain. “Whatever your business in the city is, best be on your way. You have a way out in mind?”

Fareena shook her head. She’d had a plan, but that had gone up in smoke the moment the explosions had erupted into life. Cid grimaced, then limped over to a lump of… something, hidden under a large curtain. With a grunt he tugged the curtain away, revealing the ugliest bike Fareena had ever seen.

It was love at first sight.

“This here’s the Fenrir,” Cid declared, patting the brutal motorcycle on its headlight. “All terrain monstrosity. This’ll get you where you need to go. Just promise you’ll look after it.”

Fareena stepped slowly forward, eyes glittering, nose twitching, ears aflutter. “This will get me through the snow?” she whispered reverently.

Cid laughed again, against his better judgement. “Don’t you know what all terrain means, girl? This’ll get you anywhere you need!” Cid gave her a warm smile. If you follow the road due south, you’ll get to a practically deserted checkpoint. Anyone stops you, tell them Midas’s boy has urgent news for the VIIth that can’t be delayed.” With Biggs’s assistance, Cid made his way to the ship. As if on cue, the roof of the garage split open with a groan. The night air flooded the garage in an instant. “Take care of yourself, Hagen!” Cid cried as the airship’s engine roared into life. “May we meet again, if fate allows it!” Then he was gone, along with his companions, into the night. Just a dark blot against a starless sky.

Fareena smiled as she hooked her legs around the engine of the great beast. “I’ll make my own fate, thank you very much.” The engine roared into life as the key turned. Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine.

Amidst fire and smoke, Fareena vanished into the night.