#ffxiv creative writing

[cartersarts]

Born from darkness, armed for chaos. Let the underworld tremble. DM for commissions 🎨🖌️

[wundergeek]

Aymeric is the jock version of G'raha Tia.

Charismatic. From a distinguished lineage. Leader of a nation. OBSESSED WITH ME. Also, captain of the football team and Homecoming King.

So G'raha literally does dimensional time travel to save the WoL and STILL thinks he would never have a shot.

Meanwhile, Aymeric DEFINITELY at some point was like: hey can I suck your dick, like, platonically? No romo

[endmerit]

I've been thinking a lot recently about what the different narrative themes of Final Fantasy XIV's expansions are.

While the base-game of A Realm Reborn has a story where a lot of rebuilding is happening (which is also appropriate considering the game's out-of-universe situation back then), I still wouldn't say that it has a strong narrative theme of rebuilding... but at the same time, beyond just establishing the world and the story's antagonistic forces and putting all the wheels in motion, I guess the theme of rebuilding and "By striving to help people around us and to unite with our neighbors we can not only stand against bigger common foes, but also improve all of our own day-to-day lives." is the strongest thing it has going for it. Striving to improve society somewhat can improve society somewhat.

For Heavensward, while there is that on-point Tweet of "Church sucks because they won't let you fuck dragons!", and while someone with a cynical and dry sense of wit could go with "Christianity has always been and still is oppressive, destructive and outright evil to everyone both within its system and outside it, and we should kill the Pope.", I think the healthier themes to take are along the lines of "Cycle of revenge will at best lead to mutual destruction, but definitely to your own one at the least.", and "Power either corrupts leaders who cling to it, which leads to further destruction, or they manage to stay humble enough to allow younger generations to build bridges and settle old grudges." ...but to be fair, both sides of Heavensward's conflict have such outlandishly evil leaders that simply killing just both of them does most of the heavy lifting of ending a literal 1000-year conflict, so you know.

Stormblood, I think, has easier theme to pin: It's about generational trauma caused by war and its aftermath. Stormblood's story takes place in 2 different nations that have been conquered only about 20 years ago, which means that while the older generations still remember the days of freedom and have understandable reason to hate the oppressing foreign regime, there's already a full generation of children and young adults who have grown up knowing only this rule and trying to make the most of their lives under it. This then starts the spiral of old guard hating the youth for "betraying their nation and families" and young generation growing hateful towards the old guard because of it and further siding with the oppressing regime. This premise takes Realm Reborn's and Heavensward's constant background-theme of "United we stand" and writes itself as far to the other direction as the writers can take it with "When a nation turns against itself, and its generations against each other, it is doomed to fall to its enemies." It's a heavy expansion full of people who hate each other and their lot in life and even now, years down the line, it's still feel-bad to think about.

Shadowbringers, while mine and many others' favourite expansion, I had to think a lot what the main theme to take actually was. On a more surface-level the story dares to ask questions like "What if angels were actually zombies?", "Even if it seems hopeless from the get-go, you should always try to settle your differences with talking first." and "How many millions of people is it okay to murder if the reward is a return to 'The Good Old Days'?" ...but at the end of the day I think the key-word of the expansion is Legacy. Something along the lines of "You can't fully grasp how important and loved you are to the people you have touched in your life with your every seemingly small kindness, and how far they would go in a heartbeat to save you, just like you have already saved them." ...told from couple of very different directions.

Endwalker then has the unenviable challenges of not only holding a candle to the previous expansion, but altogether wrapping up the "Main" plot that's been built up for almost a decade, while still having its own thing to say... and it comes in swinging AND sticks the landing by first asking an all-too-relatable question of "Does anyone know where to find any happiness and reason to live? Every day I look for them but all I find is more despair and suffering everywhere." and then giving its own answer of "It's the little things that make life worth living. Find your strength and source of hope against world's daily despairs from the friends around you, because if you shut yourself off from everyone, you can't expect others to care about you either." Additionally, especially the theme of "Try to trust in others enough to both offer AND accept help when it's needed." plays a heavy part in the patch-story, but the main takeaway is that Endwalker's theme is a bit more complicated than simply "Get rid of Twitter, your life will improve."

Which brings us to where we are now, still close enough after Dawntrail's release that I'll do the compromised courtesy of trying to keep details vague instead of outright spoiling them. I don't think it's a controversial opinion that the first and second half of the 7.0 story felt quite separated from each other, and it took me a long time to think about this expansion's connecting theme, but ultimately I think the story has 3 different takes to the theme of "You have to let go." First take of that theme comes from Wuk Lamat's journey in the first half, and how in every new location she (and other groups involved) visit and people they meet, she is further taught that "In order to live in peace with all the communities and cultures around you, you cannot be unreasonably rigid in doing things exactly your way, ignoring the lives and opinions of people around you just because you think you know better. You have to have some flexibility." In the second half, then, the theme is expanded upon via 2 other authority-figures, first of whom does the exact opposite of what Wuk Lamat learned in the first half and DOES ignore everyone around him, "Fighting only for myself", failing to learn and acknowledge that "From the day you were born, no matter who your family is, you had no need to prove your right to exist. Only you can let go of that idea if you feel like you do, no-one can do it for you." ...and then, while the 3rd person also has the Shadowbringers' theme of "Try and reach a solution with talking, even if it seems hopeless at first" going on, they also carry the most straight-forward version of the main theme with them, that being "You have to accept that all living things will eventually die, you cannot keep paying higher and higher price of never accepting it."

...that said though, what with all the magic and magical technology and everything else already established in the game's setting, the last stretch of the main expansion's story does muddle that last theme a bit with reasonable questions like "Really, we decided to solve the problem like that!? Couldn't we really have been able to improve upon the old existing solution to keep paying that higher and higher price??" which... would then have no doubt started a very different, also very questionable for different reasons, moral path. Regardless, I think there's currently something of a divide with the themes and in-universe realities in the game's story which, I have to assume, will be expanded upon in the upcoming patch-stories.

[captainkurosolaire]

Your Devoted Page

Dear, Casta

Should upon when this reaches you, my beloved hearty. It's within my deepest crestfallen, I've failed t' keep your original journal held intact. Found out th' traitor upon our vessel was no other than, Sol. I should've foresaw his dark-nimbus; now I'm left missing another brother and a broken-family, scattered across th' realm. As you're aware perhaps, choosing to document our Crew's journey alongside, mine. I recall when you said I was your protagonist and explained to me their unique-powers in stories. ...Remember? Me running out the next 'morrow, and getting n' a dastardly tavern brawl t' my near-death, thinking plot-armor made me invincible? Earning Judas's ire for both ov' us, yet we laughed in joy, sharing a memory-made. ...See, I know you think, you b' just ordinary, times may feel you're an outcast upon these voyages, especially amongst th' company ov' this Wild Crew I strung along. Though again... strength you usher, you mend n' stitch others, you've Captaineered these sentiments. If weren't fer you, I'd surely b' wrecking havoc monstrously, cruel to its favor. Hardest thing fer me, was leaving th' Land behind, those who've I grown knowing upon my time, stranded, forming around them. Unlike n' this expansive-tumbling tides ov' sea life... It's different. We're molded by nature required by daily survival, we become grizzly, beastly, our teeth, claws, reinforced. 'Till tyme for our placed feet to own anywhere, we conquer taking our lessons ov' seas, skies, desert, and utilize devouring moments. Claiming what's denied. Ov' Bold n' Free, we are. However in yer company, stead, I've a rare opportunity t' take those lovers of land, with me. You're a messaged-bottle; a reminder, keeping th' rabidness from taking-hold. My humanity cannot b' extinguished with you. I've saw to restoring th' journal to forged identical perfection with extra-upgrades fer th' problems, this page is dedicated as yours, alone. You-mean th' heart to me. Additionally I've noticed there's many stories, untold... So I've seized liberty to give you my Stories of Origination, following Passages of One. We've lots of similarities you may-find in revelations... My failures, sins, bringing... May this Dawn have confession, may we find closure in unity, we'll breathe together our flaws, leaving only our marvels! Against these anchored weights only recently, you Crew of Gold, have begun helping relieve and restore t' myself of what I may become... When reunited next, I'll have spoil knowledge, setting out learning who my Mother was n' pursuit and hope searching for my discovery along the missing final answers. Then becoming Th' Captain who shall sail th' Fates themselves and ferry destination ov' all your worldly dreams. Formerly t' my treasured, Yours fondly, - Captain Kuro Solaire

[Prev:Chapter]: Ill-Fated, Sadness - ♪"Past-Lives"♪

[avampyone]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Master list

I held off on creating a master list initially since I wasn't 100% certain I would be able to finish these. I was going through stressful RL situations last year and wasn't able to complete it then- I'm glad to be in a better place to do so this year!

------------

Prompt #1: Steer - A New Path

Prompt #2: Horizon - In His Snare

Prompt #3: Tempest - Of Love and Duty

Prompt #4: Reticent - The Wingman

Prompt #5: Stamp - Letter from the Lost Days

Prompt #6: Halcyon - A Visitor at Dusk

Prompt #7: Morsel - Serendipity

Prompt #8: Brain rest day

Prompt #9: Lend an Ear - The Outsider

Prompt #10: Stable - Synthesis Failed

Prompt #11: Surrogate - Never Forgotten

Prompt #12: Quarry - Promise

Prompt #13: Butte - The Prime Suspect

Prompt #14: Telling - Haunted

Prompt #15: Brain rest day

Prompt #16: Third-rate - Wayward Son

Prompt #17: Sally - The Night's Embrace

Prompt #18: Hackneyed - Unexpected Meeting

Prompt #19: Taken - A Little Warmth

Prompt #20: Duel - The Dreamers

Prompt #21: Shade - A Long-awaited Reunion

Prompt #22: Brain rest day

Prompt #23: On Cloud Nine: The Last Waltz

Prompt #24: Bar: More Mezcal

Prompt #25: Perpetuity: Aesthete

Prompt #26: Zip - Camouflage

Prompt #27: Memory - Beguiling Dark

Prompt #28: Deleterious - Rendezvous

Prompt #29: Brain rest day

Prompt #30: Two Heads Are Better Than One: Serenity

[silentarborinah]

Svo hljótt

“Inah!” Tataru exclaimed, clearly taken aback, “I wasn't expecting to see you back so soon. No one was.”

Inah gives her a small, knowing smile. “Yes, time works in the strangest of ways.”

Tartaru moves in closer, inspecting her. She says, quieter, “You look exhausted.”

Again, trying to play off the intense fatigue she feels in every fiber of her being, Inah lets out a small, dismissive laugh, “I suppose it was a long journey.”

She hates the concerned look Tataru gives her, as if she can see straight through her posturing. Then again, she probably can.

“Your eyes…”

Inah immediately looks away. She's not used to the change herself. The gradual lightening of the color a physical manifestation of the strain her body was under. Of her anxieties. Of her near catastrophic failure. She had hoped that the light being expunged from her body would return the dark, forest green, but it didn't. She is now left with a permanent reminder.

Tataru must sense the shift, as she reaches out, grabbing Inah's hand. It's comforting, it reminds Inah of Ferah, how she would silently hold Inah's hand whenever she was nervous, but didnt want to show it. That only makes her feel worse. Would any of her family members even recognize her?

“Come, let's get you into a room to rest. I can brush your hair, if you'd like. It looks a little tangled from the journey.” Tataru smiles gently up at her.

Swallowing down the anxiety knotted in her throat, Inah nods, following Tataru further into the Rising Stones.

She's not even entirely sure why this anxiety lingers, or what specifically she is so anxious about. Maybe it's a culmination of everything she has gone through, still so recent and raw. Maybe it's her eyes—that no matter how long she stares at herself in the mirror, she can't see the young, excited adventurer that was once there.

The moment she settles down on the edge of the bed, Inah feels the weight of her exhaustion. She practically melts down into the mattress below, using all her remaining energy to stay sitting upright.

Tataru grabs a hairbrush from the vanity before making her way over to sit behind Inah. Slowly and gently, she begins to work her way through a long section of her hair.

Until she suddenly stops.

“Inah, have—well, your hair…”

Her heart starts to race.

“I'm sorry, it just, it doesn't feel right. It feels fried.”

Inah clenches her eyes shut, forcing the tears not to fall. “What should I do?” Her hands clench together, feeling her nails digging into the backs of her hands.

“Well,” Tataru starts, running her hands through her hair, focusing on the roots, “The good news is the new growth seems perfectly healthy and smooth. So for now, we can cut the dead hair away and let it grow back out.”

Inah feels herself freeze. She has rarely ever received haircuts, and they were always the lightest trims from Ferah. Her stomach thrashes, this can't be happening.

Then she reaches out, running a small piece through her hands, and feels the damage left behind, no doubt from The light. It's dried and course and frizzy—all characteristics that could never be attributed to her hair prior

“The roots, they seem healthy?” Inah practically chokes out.

“Yes, it seems like the newer hair is fine. We'll just have to watch it closely, but I think it might grow back healthy again.”

Moments of silence stretch between them. Finally, Inah lets out a deep, ragged breath.

“We can cut it.”

Tataru squeezes her shoulder in support before going to get some scissors.

“I'll do my best to make it super cute,” Tataru says, giving Inah her most supportive smile before settling behind her again.

“I know you will,” Inah whispers back, body barely trembling.

As soon as the first long section falls to the floor, the tears finally come in ugly, body-wracking sobs.

And by the end, when all the tears have dried and hair has been cut, Tataru passes over a hand mirror. Inah truly doesn't recognize herself, and not because her hair is now shorter and her eyes a different shade of green, but because the person staring back at her looks so sad, so tired, so broken.

“I know it's pretty different,” Tataru gives her shoulders another comforting squeeze, “But despite everything, it's still you.”

[chaosmagetwin]

Tanya, my OC from ff14 and thoughts

Some spoilers ahead for each of the expansions, up through Endwalker.

Original Tanya (name unknown) was a Viera conjurer Adventurer from Gridania during the Battle of Carteneau. She witnessed the fall of Dalamud directly, and saw the original Warrior of Light (though she forgot them, as everyone else did, except for the ring of light). She was within the main host of the Grand Eorzean Alliance Army. Unfortunately, OT did not survive the fall of Dalamud. Her body, among others, was recovered by a surviving squad of the Lambs of Dalamud, but they were unaware that the fight was over. At this point, Tanya was summoned into the corpse of the Viera, and given life. 

Whether the voidsent was inexperienced, weak, incapable, or whether the Viera's latent White Mage power briefly awakened is unclear, the Viera's soul and the voidsent merged into one creature, completely new, with the memories of neither. The body also mutated, gaining the black horns of an Archdemon, and marred black hands that looked as if they had been stained by tar. Tanya, as she would come to call herself (unaware of the proper naming conventions of Viera), was used by the Lambs of Dalamud as a proficient fighter and, after some time, thaumaturge. She was taught that she was a weapon, a creation intended for nothing more than violence.

During this time period, she murdered, stole, and made sacrifices to a god she didn't know or appreciate. However, due to being a creation (however flawed) of the Lambs, she was often given work that others didn't want to do... including taking care of sacrifices until the time of their execution. No one sacrifice changed her mind, but the combination of several made her question what she knew. Despite this, she didn't leave the Lambs of Dalamud until nearly 4 years later. She spent the final year before "A Realm Reborn", learning how people really lived within Eorzea, more or less wandering; at times she killed to protect herself, at other times because she felt drawn to it, like there was a hunger. She ended up in Ul'dah, after learning how to glam her horns and hands (at least temporarily) and became an adventurer professionally, seeking to use it as a way to learn more about the world, and continue exploring without being questioned for her reasons. It was also a way for her to continue what she see's as her purpose; violence. At this time, she yearns to be useful, to put her skills to use for society.

As the story progresses, Tanya learns a few things about herself - being what she is, she is impossible to temper. Her internal aether is weak(it grows over time), but she does have access to drawing in aether from her surroundings passively and actively; one of the active ways in which she can draw in aether is vampiric. Unlike Minfilia and Krile, she does *not* have the echo. During ARR, she has Thaumaturge and Black mage powers. She is found by the Scions, and their access to the Echo allows them to find out what exactly she is. Rather than destroy her, they decide to put her to use, believing her to be a good weapon, at least until they find someone with an Echo who can fight as well as she can.

The scions, for their part, are not necessarily fond of Tanya; she's rather frightening, often inhuman in her mannerisms, with questionable morals and ethics. They wanted a tool, someone who could fight the primals that were draining the land. There was some concern that she'd simply become a replacement for the primals. Ultimately, she's capable of communication, and can't temper people so she seems like the better option. Near the end of ARR, their opinions have changed only a little, especially for Thancred, after Thancred's return after possession. Tanya, during this period, is simply happy to travel and be of use. She learns a little about what she is during The Crystal Tower series, and especially within the World of Darkness, where she feels the most comfortable existing. Some of the creatures within even seem to recognize her among the adventuring group. Hydaelyn never interacts with Tanya during ARR; the crystals still fall to the ground, and Tanya picks them up, but there are no visions, no information gained from them.

The end of ARR sees Tanya fall deeply in love (platonically, not romantically) with the scions, becoming fiercely protective of them all after the banquet, and nearly openly hostile to outsiders; some would call her a chained rabid dog. The scions do not return her love in any regard, though they continue to pretend she is one of them, especially with her. The journey of Heavensward tests Tanya's patience with the local religion, forcing her to stay as glamoured as possible throughout. During this time period, she impresses the ghost of Midgardsormr, and after a short test, gains an echo for the first time. She also becomes a Dark Knight, allowing her abundance of dark aether to thrive. Tanya is at her lowest point during this expansion; despite having a small cadre of people she trusts, she can feel that trust is not extended to her; no one has told her what she is, but Y'Shtola knows, and has told the others. She connected deeply with both Ysayle and Estinien, even developing a crush on Ysayle before her untimely demise. However, neither learned the truth of her existence at this point. She also interacts with The Void Ark, Mhach, and Dun Scaith. It is at this point that Tanya, as part of a group of raiders, accidentally becomes much more powerful after absorbing a portion of the Nullstone's power, simultaneously revealing what she is and empowering her. It is also revealed that the nullstone could remove the voidsent portion of her soul, but that doing so would destroy who she is currently. She is uncertain of what to do, afraid of death and can’t make a decision. Instead, she puts it off for later, squirreling the nullstone away, telling no one about it.

At the start of Stormblood Tanya’s class is that of Astrologian. Physically, and magically, Tanya is at her most powerful, utilizing the nullstone's strength, and often draining aether from the world around her at alarming rates; she uses it the most during fights with primals, where she can blame it on them, though the scions know the truth.. However, mentally, Tanya is doing quite poorly; Haurchefant’s and Ysayle’s deaths impacted her deeply, and she greatly feared losing any scions. She refused any and all help. This backfired with Zenos, as she nearly died when she prevented anyone else from facing him; she couldn't drain the land's aether without someone to blame it on. Most of stormblood continues as normal, with the added caveat that Tanya slowly learns to let the scions do their work again, despite her stress. Tanya’s relationship with the scions at this point is one of begrudging trust. She's sacrificed too much to merely be a tool, too much to merely be their weapon, and the truth of what she is has been revealed and, ultimately, accepted. Tanya still dearly loves each of the scions, as they have finally accepted her for who and what she is, even if she is still somewhat strange and inhuman at times. Unfortunately, her worst fears come true as the scion’s souls are whisked away to The First. Her relationship with herself, however, is strained. She feels that she is a monster, a horrible creature that has stolen a body never meant for her.

It is fortunate that Tanya is physically transported to The First, as it’s unclear what would happen if only her soul had been sent. During Shadowbringers, Tanya finds that absorbing the Lightwarden’s power is easy for her, due to her aether vampirism, but containing it appears to be incredibly difficult. She is at her weakest during this story, forced to rely on the scions to handle any combat task. Unwilling to be a simple passenger, Tanya picks up the White Mage class for the rest of Shadowbringers, stating that if she can’t fight or foretell the future, then she can at least heal their injuries directly, if somewhat weakly. It is during this period that she loses the power to glam herself at all, and she is forced to allow others to view her as she really is. Fortunately, voidsent seem rare among the first, and none associate her with the sin eaters, so it was questionable if it was necessary to begin with. Between the final lightwarden and the final fight with Hades, Tanya barely manages to hold herself together, and still bears the scars of it today; white and gold streaks and horizontal striped scars that cross her entire body, as though she were being pulled apart by a great force. She manages to survive, however, and is able to purge herself of the light. The end of Shadowbringers, after she finishes recuperating, is one that sees her still weak - the light corruption had weakened the power she had received from the nullstone, and there wasn’t much aether for her to absorb from her surroundings. 

She helps Ryne with the Eden project, and finds herself feeling connecting with and understanding Gaia to some extent. However, the most disturbing part of the entire series was certainly fighting the reborn Cloud of Darkness; a creation, such as herself, who's only purpose, instead of violence, is to die.

During this time, it is discovered that those with tempered souls can be cured with no negative effects. With effort, she returns everyone, including G’raha Tia, to The Source. After this, Fourchenault Leveilleur disowns Alisaie and Alphinaud, and she appropriately curses the man out of the meeting, angry that a parent would ever give up their child for any reason. She vows to never forgive someone who would give up their family, and offers (fruitlessly) to adopt the twins.

Before Endwalker begins, Tanya is healing in nearly all ways; her scars ache, she feels aetherically starved, and her emotional state is distraught. The scions, however, have finally fallen in (in various levels of platonic and romantic) love with the creature. They are interested in helping her to recover, to heal, to get the therapy she needs.

During Endwalker, Tanya becomes a Dancer, and, for the first time in The Source, allows herself to exist without glamours. She receives no small amount of fear, but fortunately, her efforts as The Warrior of Light and the support of the scions protected her from most backlash. During this time period, Tanya is at her most stable, emotionally speaking. Physically, she is capable, but no longer as strong as she had been during Stormblood. This is all relatively good, as it allows her to survive The Final Days without becoming a Blasphemy, something that would have previously been impossible for her, during any point of her life. For her, the most important time of Endwalker was during Elpis, and being able to interact with the Ancients of the unsundered world; she developed a strong crush on Venat, Elidibus, and Hythlodaeus. She found them to be relatable in ways that others often weren’t, and connected on an emotional level to Hermes and Meteion, Though she didn’t agree with their choices, she understood how they reached those conclusions. Ultima Thule just about broke her as she lost her friends, one at a time. The only thing that drove her on at the end was the hope that Meteion could be persuaded to use Dynamis to return her friends. Or, failing that, revenge. 

Zenos is of particular note, in all points he appears in. Few understood Tanya on such a visceral level as Zenos did; he understood her to her core, from the moment he met her. It is not unfair to say that he was a mirror, and the only difference between the two of them was the support of allies. When Zenos called Tanya a friend, she earnestly accepted, and agreed. In a way, she felt that they completed one another. She deeply loved Zenos. She deeply hated Zenos. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to be killed by him. By the time she fought Meteion, she was ravenous for the fight to come. Their fight was one of devouring; of all-consuming love and hate. Tanya is incapable of describing their fight in anything but in terms of erotic cannibalism, of pleasure, and fullness, and pain. In many ways, she feels empty now that he is gone, and she is alone. She fears that she may never find another like him.

Exploring the 13th, AKA the Void, has been a strange and sad feeling for her. In some ways, there is a feeling of belonging. In others, she feels alien. And, finally, she meets Zero, who I did NOT know about when I first wrote all of this up, back at the start of Endwalker, before any patches came out. Zero is a mirror to her in so many ways; a mirror of what she could have been, if she'd been in the 13th instead. The transactional nature of all relationships. Where Tanya clings and clutches at allies, of feeling useful and needed, Zero has pushed away and isolated herself. Where Tanya has thrown herself under the bus for the slightest praise, Zero holds herself aloof to it. What Zero see's in Tanya, besides kinship with a voidsent who is at some sort of halfway point like herself, is unclear.

[artisticvicu]

Summary:

Echo'a Velundaleht, Warrior of Light, Bringer of Hope and the bane of any villain's existence.

Or so the moniker goes. It changes, sure, adapting as needed to appease the masses or be used against him, but that doesn't mean he ever likes it. Not when there's more than just enemy blood on his hands and situations rob him of those he cares about.

At some point he's going to stop caring. At some point, he's going to be done with all their stupidity and the endlessness of it all and simply watch the world burn just because he could.

That thought scares him more than his own death does and he can't help but wonder for how much longer it will.

At least he has the Scions. If he had been on his own, he would have shattered a long time ago. He just hopes he hasn't leaned too heavily on them in turn.

 

Contains predominantly Shadowbringers and Endwalker content with a sprinkling of A Realm Reborn and Heavenward in the beginning, game transcript used heavily in places.

Chapter names are the main scenario quest names (and two role quests). Unnamed chapters are generally supplementary content - such as Ch33 being Azem's chapter.

[haellen-o]

undress — for the single-word drive!

it took me a little bit to figure out what to write for this but i got there in the end with help from a friends suggestion

or alternatively the raw writing under the cut (listen i gotta make use of that AO3 account sometime before dawntrail)

Ophelia sighed “Is this really necessary?” She slowly undid the buckles and straps on her gauntlets. For once all she wanted to do was get her armour off and relax

“Completely” Ysayle responded “I thought you liked it when we did this?” She asked with a raised brow, turning back to glance at ophelia

“I said I like it when you’re close. Not when you’re doting over me” Ophelia responded

“I don’t hear you complain when i brush your hair~” Ysayle said with a coy smile “Or when i-”

“Ssshhhushshhhush” Ophelia raised a finger “I get it i get what you’re trying to say”

Ophelia let her gauntlet hit the ground with a clank as she took it off. She flexed her fingers afterwards before moving on to the next “It’s not like I got into a fight anyway. You don’t have to worry”

“If i was worried about you getting into a fight i would’ve come with you” Ysayle glanced back once more as she spoke “Do you want to risk an infection?” 

“It won’t kill me” Ophelia responded

“It will hurt though if you do get one”

The mention of hurt caused her bicep to twitch slightly, tiny bolts of lighting felt like they ran through her muscles, ophelia let her other gauntlet fall to the ground as she ran a hand up her shoulder and under her coat “I’ve hurt worse”

“You’re being a big baby” Ysayle said with a sigh as she rolled her sleeves up and stepped over. Bringing a bowl of warm water, a towel. And some bandages with her “Now. Are you going to let me change your bandages or not?”

Ophelia relented and sighed once more. Taking her coat off slowly as to not agitate her already sore bicep “I guess…”

Ysayle let out a small sigh and shook her head. Like a disappointed mother “You’re supposed to be this big tough hero and all do you is moan like a newborn when i want to make sure you’re okay. I mean really ” She teased with a sly smile as she walked over and placed the tray of bandages clean clothes and warm water on a nearby table “Now. Show the doctor where it hurts” She smiled as she rolled up ophelia’s sleeve

[redmoonwanderer]

FFXIV Write 2024, Day 21 Prompt: Shade Takes place late-ShB.

Qhol’a is exhausted. It’s difficult to keep from his friends, and he thinks some of them might even know but don’t say anything because what other option do they have if they are to save this world, and their own? He’ll have to keep walking, one leg in front of the other, even when the light trapped within is tearing him from the inside, burning and blinding.

Having Ardbert with him is a relief. Someone by his side who knows what he’s going through, even when Qhol’a sometimes would’ve preferred no one had a clue. Because his world and its peoples rely on him, but Ardbert just is there, gone yet still kept here by some power, some thread that refuses to let him go. He doesn’t look at him and expect greatness; he sees a man who just wants to rest, for once in his life since he got involved with the Scions and their worlds saving business.

He doesn’t hate it, of course. He’d hate himself it he let anything bad happen because of selfish needs.

Still, he feels like a shadow of a man who he used be. Every breath feels like it’s going to make his chest burst open, and only stubbornness keeps him steady when he feels like his legs are going to give in under him. When the light blinds him, he hopes the road ahead will stay steady until he regains his vision because he can’t ask for help. He can’t have his friends turn back and try to find another way when there is no time for other ways.

The journey is closing its ending, he can feel it. But what kind of an end it will be, he cannot tell.

A small, well-hidden part of him hopes that he will never need to find out, but it needs to end, soon. One way or another.

[therealdesastrffxiv]

Gloomy Angels: Nimie's Story

Pictured above: Nimie (left) & Morana (right)

=====

Context: Mysterious Garleans rescuing captured 'monsters' from an evil scientist's laboratory. Story below.

Nimie’s Story

Everything hurt. 

Her gums especially, though the recent lacerations on her flesh from that damned scalpel did a number too.

Nimie wanted to die. 

But Rook wouldn’t let her. 

Every time the vampire exhaled, a whimper-like noise left her lungs. Her eyes were partially closed. She was glad she regrew her eyelids so she could close them now. That had been a ‘fun’ little experiment by Rook. A crash sounded nearby, and she really wasn’t comprehending what was happening now. She could scent the blood rushing through the veins of someone coming closer. 

When she looked up, she saw not one, but several people. All with glowing eyes, staring her down. Nimie peeled back her lips and let out a long, drawn out hiss, pressing against the back of her cell. Drool poured down her chin. Such a far cry from the skilled pirate she was outside of this place, and even further back, a complete contrast to her status of nobility she walked away from. 

A monster in rags, to rot and die here. What did she see in those eyes? An eerie feminine voice rang out “Listen up. I do not like you. I am not your friend, I do not want anything to do with you monsters. But no one deserves this.” She had no idea what was going on, but the cell was blasted open. 

Why couldn’t she scent the people with her?! She had no idea what was going on. They had no heartbeat, no scent aside from the strong blast of ceruleum. Except for the woman standing before her, kneeling there. Nimie snarled and lunged out of nowhere, but her jaws locked onto the mysterious, scentless people. She began to drink, but it tasted like raw aether, and she began to calm down. 

“Get her to one of the corpses left behind,” the commanding feminine voice growled. 

With that one bite, Nimie lost all strength. Frenzy was over, and though she was now in control,  there was no second wind. She slumped, falling to the floor with a whimper. She managed to snarl out a garble of words that were incoherent. She was trying to tell them to leave her alone. 

They didn’t. 

Warm, fresh blood flowed down her throat, revitalizing her. Her eyes closed as she drank, and slowly, she found herself fading away… 

No… no! Please, I need to stay awake, I need to get away… 

As everything faded to black, Nimie realized she was being taken somewhere. 

—----------------

Groaning, Nimie began to come to, feeling dizzy and a touch sick. She held her stomach, trying not to spew everywhere. The first thing she noticed was that she was on a bunch of cushions and covered in blankets. She was also in new clothing made from a material she didn’t know. There was a light sting to her wounds, but also a warmth, like salve had been applied. 

The hum of machines hit her ears, causing them to pull back somewhat. She leaned against a cold, stone concrete wall to realize she was surrounded by rusty fencing. Where was she? Some sort of factory? Was she going to be torn to pieces and processed?! 

Nimie whimpered, covering her eyes and starting to sob. She didn’t touch the blankets even though she was shivering profusely. Was this another part of Rook’s sick plan? She was a wreck, and this carried on for hours until she laid there on the cushions, shuddering and clenching her jaw. She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around again to discover someone staring at her. 

With no scent.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream at the sight of eerie, glowing pale eyes on her. Her heart began to thud, and her stomach clenched. She was under enough stress that the edges of her vision began to darken, and she fell onto the pillow, shuddering. Very shortly following that, she blacked out for another few hours. 

Waking up again, she was here in the factory, not on the table, and a blood bag was by her head. She hissed, refusing to drink it. The blood Rook gave burned. But eventually, she gave in, knowing she would starve otherwise. Her body betrayed her there - she drank the blood bag, but it was actually pleasant. Fresh, rich blood… no added chemicals. No burning as it went down. 

When she looked up again she met those eyes. She began to shudder again, this time actually pulling the blankets closer, leaning against the wall. Finding her voice, she snarled, “Oi, who are you? Am I to die here?” No response. The person staring her down was in shiny black material, and… oh hells, they had a third eye. This was a Garlean, again with no vital signs. 

Nimie thought this through for a moment. She’d encountered things like this before… What was it? Ashkin, right. From afar. They had no vitals either, they were zombies. With that eerie eye glow and complete lack of sound or scent from them, aside from cereleum, that was her best guess. But…Garleans. She’d read about the horrors they committed, yet never experienced them herself. 

She didn’t trust this one bit. 

No answers, either. She continued to cry into her hands until she had no more tears to cry. 

—--

A day later, Nimie was approached by a man with one eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. He was terrifying, a muscular Garlean with a stare even more frightening than the zombies. He was doing that to her right now. He said in a low, gravelly voice with somewhat of an echo to it, “I am going to bring you to the bathroom. You can take care of yourself there.” He narrowed his eye. There were no words of reassurance here. 

Nimie responded to this by hissing at him and pressing further against the wall. Her crimson stare was locked on the zombie as he got closer. “One step closer and I’ll tear right through your BLOODY DAMN ARM, ya understand?! I know you’re a DAMN Ashkin, I know you’re a DAMN Garlean, ya better fuckin’ let me out of here or so help me I’ll show you why I’m called ‘Nimie Vicebite’ ya fuck.” 

Well, she was very vocal, and probably cussed Rook out the entire time too. Sure, she started off as a noblewoman. But she’d been a pirate for over five years. The zombie actually let out a sigh, his eye managing to harden. He continued, until suddenly, he lunged, grabbing her arm and causing her to shriek. Now, she was being dragged somewhere while headlocked. 

She began to chew on the zombie’s arm, but wasn’t in frenzy, so her jaw strength simply wasn’t out of control, and so, she couldn’t chew through his shirt. Very much annoyed by this, slighted, even, Nimie hissed in frustration. “Bugger, what the hells is this made of, huh? Draggin’ me off to my death who knows where and I can’t even bite through your damn shirt?! How is that fair, eh? Come on, let me go. I’m not tasty. Too much muscle, too gamey, I chew on sailors so am probably way too salty.”

Now, they were going up some stairs. Nimie did not have enough strength to counter the zombie, and she panted, too tired to continue her struggle. So, she continued to hiss, snarl, growl, and cuss at him. “Bastard. Kickin’ someone already down, eh? Not even tellin’ me how I’m gonna die? That scientist sure did, she described every fuckin’ thing she was gonna do to me. Damn it, let me GO ya fucker!” 

Up more stairs. 

Nimie shrieked as she met the eyes of more Ashkin she had no idea were there. What was this place?! She whimpered, remaining silent until they got to… a bathroom. Like the intimidating fellow said. She was placed on the ground. Then, the zombie stepped back, keeping his stare on her. 

Immediately, Nimie hissed at him again. “This some sick joke, eh? Cleanin’ up your food before taking a nice, big, bite? What, gonna tear me to pieces? Just do it then, enough of these damn games!” 

The zombie loomed over her as she crouched there on the ground, growling at him. She had no ability to do anything against him, either. She flinched back, swallowing. That deep, gravelly voice was soft now, but very threatening. “Take care of yourself in there. Or.” A scowl spread across his face. “You will learn how it feels to be devoured by Ashkin. Do I make myself clear?”

Nimie hissed at him, swiping toward him with her claws. 

The zombie continued. “Towels. Blankets. Spare clothing with the towels. All of what you need. Behave.”

Nimie snapped her jaws at him, her heart pounding, but eventually crept into the shower and tucked herself into the corner. She began to softly cry again, shuddering, her bravado draining from her now that she was out of sight from the zombie.

Eventually, she needed to listen, or she’d become Ashkin chow. (She had no idea the threat wasn’t serious, the zombies did not in fact have vampire on the menu.) When her shower concluded, she stayed in there, closing her eyes. 

His voice rang out again. “I am taking you back to your place of rest should you be finished.” 

“If I stay in here in the nude, will ya fuckin’ leave me alone?!” Nimie snapped, though the idea of doing that really wasn’t something that she wanted to do. She closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. 

In a matter-of-fact tone, the zombie replied from behind the curtain, “I can throw a large blanket over you and direct you back to the spot.” 

“Oh, oh, ‘direct’, yes of course! Ya mean drag my ass down several stairs and toss me into a practical cell, right, right, ‘direct’, ya fucker,” Nimie snapped. She sighed and grabbed the spare clothes, then put them on. “Fine, I’m dressed in my church best, all ready for whatever twisted plan ya got for me. Bastard.” 

She slunk out from behind the curtain to face the zombie, who did not look amused. He glared her down and approached, causing her to shrink down, her lip quivering. Her stomach twisted, and she covered her face, her panic overcoming her again. Suddenly, she was in his arms, again. This time carried, not dragged. She didn’t remove her hands from her face until she was placed down again.

Here…on the cushions. 

There were now some books here, too. A bunch of manual and science books. How exciting. 

She sighed, more confused than ever, and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She grabbed several blankets and pulled them over her, her back now facing the entrance of this place, where the zombies guarded. With that, she let herself doze off, still completely drained of energy and not doing great. 

—--

It went like that for three days. 

On the fourth, she began to suspect there was something off. In other words, the zombies had not opted to eat her, she hadn’t been dragged to a table, and she was actually recovering. A very terrifying medicus zombie had visited and asked her in a dangerous, flat, tone, how she’d been feeling. 

“Like a bag of shite, that’s how I’m feelin’, bastards. Tell me what’s going on! Please? Just get it over with quickly if you’re going to do something,” she had said. She snapped her fangs and swiped at any zombie that tried getting too close, making the medicus’s life miserable. The medicus, of course, did not explain what they were doing. So, she figured they were malicious. 

Either way, she was once again fine. These zombies manhandled her when she tried escaping, but she paid a lot of attention - they never actually hurt her. What was their deal?! Were they trying to help her? Why were they acting like this?

Nimie sighed. 

As she gained strength, escape attempts became more frequent. The vampire grew more crafty and could trick the zombies and get a little far before being intercepted. She calculated the patrol routes and tricked them into thinking, at times, she was asleep when really, she wasn’t.

This was one of those times she got pretty far. Up the stairs, juking the zombies, she chuckled to herself at the mess she was making. She knew by now they would not hurt her. At this point, she misbehaved so much to see if she could trigger their aggression (aside from actually attacking them, unless trying to chew on their arm when dragging her back counted) and see if she could end this all faster. 

Nope.

She was almost positive they were trying to frighten her on purpose. To be honest, it worked really well, but it didn’t stop her from trying to get some answers. 

She could hear her heartbeat. The necromancer. Intensifying as she rounded the corner and stared at the lookout, which reminded her of what archers utilized. With a low, dangerous growl, she met the pale gaze of the woman. “What is going on here, eh? What are you bastards doing, why are you keeping me here? Are you helping me? Say it! Say something! You all can talk, I know it! Tell me–AUGH!” 

A strong arm linked around her chest, pulling her against one of the zombies. The one-eyed one. Great, he was the scariest. What did Nimie do?! CHOMP. She began to try and chew on his arm, growling and thrashing like mad. Hearing him sigh in her ear, she pulled hers back.

And down she went. Back to where she’d be guarded by the damn zombies, fed, and met with silence. At least there were some holes in the scary zombie’s arm sleeve now, but that had taken a lot of escape and a lot of chewing. He’d probably repair it, but – “You know. With a sewing needle, I could fix that for you. Eh? Eh? Only payment is to tell me what’s going on!” 

She was placed on the cushions. She glared at the zombie as he stepped back. Right now, there was a blank, inquisitive look on his face, but that hardened into a scary one as he clenched his jaw and stepped forward. Nimie shrank back, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over herself, whimpering. “I get it, I get it,” she whispered.

—--

Time to leave, though Nimie had no idea. She was now given chemicals in her blood that made her sleepy, nearly knocking her out. She watched through narrowed eyes as she was carried outside into the cold. Trying to stay awake. What was happening?! They went onto a…large skeletal dragon, causing her heart to pound. 

Was this it?

She didn’t know how much time passed, but there, in the distance, was an aetheryte. She was placed on the ground some distance away. She felt eyes on her as she came to, and managed to stand and limp, walking toward the aetheryte. They were going to play with her. 

Intercept her.

Or…something. But freedom was so close… she just needed to get away… to get to where others would be, to help her… 

She looked over her shoulder. Those pale eyes remained on her, staring her down. Panic set in, and she began to run unsteadily until almost slamming into one of the guards working in the contingent. “Help,” she whimpered. “...Help.”

She…got the help. She got out of there. She survived. Somehow, from some miracle, she survived. The Adders called upon Falls, who brought her to the City of Monsters, where she made a full recovery, at least in body. 

What happened during that week-long span? Who were those Garlean zombies? She didn’t know…

Nimie's experience: End!

[cartersarts]

Art is the mirror of culture; when we gaze into it, we not only see the world around us but also the intricate tapestry of our own identities. DM for commissions 🎉🥳

[wundergeek]

New FFXIV fic: Finding G'raha

We sat in silence for a minute, enjoying the view together, before he cleared his throat. "What will you do when this is over?"

"Rest," I said instantly. "I hope," I added much more quietly.

There was a soft, sympathetic snort from beside me.

I decided to turn the question back on him. "What will you do when this is over?"

"When this is over? Indeed." The Exarch repeated, seeming genuinely surprised to be asked such a question. "I once told you there are things we can ill afford to lose. 'Things', I said, though in truth I spoke of a person. One who is unaware of the full extent of my plans. Though they deserve to know, I have good reason to keep my council. I have come to terms with this in my mind, but my heart yearns to lay everything bare. For they are my inspiration, and I would give much and more for the chance to speak with them as friends, with no thought of concealment."

He looked out over the water as he spoke, not meeting my gaze, which was just as well. Because with each word he spoke, I became more certain that my suspicion had been correct. G'raha Tia was the Exarch. 

I didn't know how he'd done it, how he'd even conceived of such a mad plan, but somehow the brilliant and brashly reckless researcher I'd met in Mor Dhona had accomplished a feat far beyond the scope of my wildest imaginings. My chest was suddenly far too small to contain my welter of feelings. Relief that he'd survived. Joy that we'd met again.

"Then, I would ask them about their next adventure," he continued, oblivious to the storm of emotion he'd sparked in me. "And if they should wish me to be a part of it, oh... how happy it would make me. Together, we would travel the lands and cross the seas and take to the skies upon the eternal wind... My heart swells simply to imagine it."

I stared at him, drinking in the sound of his voice like I was hearing it for the first time.

It had taken me so long to see past the devil-may-care attitude he'd cultivated when we met, to recognize him as a kindred spirit that I wanted a deeper connection with, and by then, we were busy preparing our assault on the World of Darkness. I'd naively planned on asking him how he felt when it was all over, only for G'raha to seal himself in the Tower before I thought to say anything.

I'd regretted it ever since. And yet, the Gods had granted me a second chance, because here he was, spilling his heart out to me, clearly feeling the same regret.

Read the whole thing on AO3

[azems-familiar]

having an intense moment of "why am i even putting forth all the effort to write this 30k+ word fic when only one person is going to care about it and that person already knows everything that happens" tonight (not helped by the last 30k word fic i put out getting 9 kudos and one singular comment) and trying to remind myself that i write because i like writing, because there are stories i want to tell and that even if i'm only telling them to myself it's still worthwhile

but also. it's a struggle when part of why i write and post things is because i want to connect with other people through telling stories and making them feel things the way the stories i read make me feel things, and when there's no evidence that people connect with the things i write....ugh. it gets to feeling pointless

i know. i know. and i won't let depression or anxiety prevent me from doing one of the only hobbies i still can participate in, and the creative outlet i've had for years. tonight is just...being very ugh about it. maybe because the scene i'm working on is being very tricky and a struggle to get through right now and i only have the aforementioned one single person to hype it.

[captainkurosolaire]

Ill-Fated, Sadness

Disheartening rainfall plunged from weeping skies, promising to be herald historically catastrophic, neighboring farms and abodes were spared no expense of ire. Flooding purest sorrow and mourning it sought to soil upon mortal-lands. Summers passed, a couple of Shadow to Dawn, would have their ultimate harrowing, a wicked test of their characters, love, trialed against fate's sheer remorselessness. Once formerly an expressionless, hollow man, now a dark-clad, husband returned home. Only to find his other-half in a ball between knees, tears-streaming, heavier than rain outdoors, pattering below rivers. Only she unsheathed his cruelty; restoring senses to identity. His blackened-gloves reached out into her unusual visit to darkness and searched answer, "Hey. What's wrong?" Those palms brought the end of many, but maneuvered, so caring. Encouraging to share wielding this pain, not alone. Hoisting gradually, her-features; read, <Please, Forgive Me...> continuing a downpour, "I'm a failure, accursed, flawed." the assassin felt sensations of fury. Whoever is causing these... They'll perish. Outside in the back-drop, thunder-struck with blasting-boom! As Rokeia finally confessed, "I cannot conceive." Twisted-fates would do this? She spent her life, in Shamanism restoring infertile, curing others, relieving spirits from lesser to greater. She wanted to have a child with her lover; trying until she finally discovered a plight. For all he did is know death. After their contract, that saw them entangled, caring for a pathetic-lowly, flower, a Sakurasou. There wasn't doubt, he'd be a perfect father of unbridled security. It may bring him full peace. Across oppositions, he was a devoid-husk being, heartless, a genuine-star-eyed killer. But to moments of heart, a firm-digit reached out lifting her chin. "Together." Plainly said, "...We'll solve anything together. Scour this realm for a solution. No dark is immune to light, you're proof." Suddenly her downtrodden-state was annihilated. The Black Miracle once again; instilling hope. Taking two-fingers, intersecting his lips to create a goof-smile to expressively say; she wasn't alone. This isn't a lone-burden. Clouds she knew, ceased; composure returned. Couple were orbits, necessary for another's survival. Features-loosened up with beautified determination, "You're right! I won't give-in. But... Honey, you need to stay, to East. You've obligations. So I'll journey, traverse all-over. I believe Pirate's are renowned for this... Let me go find our treasure. Then, we'll be arms, with a precious other existence. Our littlest-balance maker of joy! I'm certain they'll bring others too." They'd temporarily sacrifice distance of another for a moment, but they're of essence. Sharing agreement, he personally extended search and become an infamous Slayer of Legends to silent-dwellers of night. Deemed enemies would be erased... slaughter before his appointed-skies. His accolades brought to creating a dynasty. Facing a hundred-other dangerous killers and dismantling their Black-Stars of Weaponry. Rozan the 100 Stars. Was forged, The Last Black Miracle. Her storied-events pushed motion. A woman-of-scouring was born, a Pirate... Of remarkable left recorded to faded-passages. Noble-intentions to retrieve something sacred! Self-Restoration and cultivate precious, Life. She'd free a Founding Captain of the Goldbrand from execution whose Friendship, was integral of future coming-eras. Her gifts made them accelerate in wealth, but wasn't priority. Navigation she pioneered, was ahead-of-its-time. Due to treasure-sought. Embarking mythical adventures, saw her owning an unusual-ship that could traverse even dimensions! Death's Door... Would these lovers be successful in making happy-ever-after? The paired in hardship said to Fate... You won't win. Together. Us. We'll... Rebel! Fight! Sacrifice! Claim! For Our Future. Importantly, theirs...

[Prev:Chapter]: Sublunary Love ~ ♪"Stay"♪

[maiemorrae]

Flowers of Thanalan

Just a little something I wrote after doing some side quests on a new character I've made in ff14. Not sure if I'll do this again but I had some writing ideas from these quests and thought why not share.

”That poor soul, at least, had family that rushed to his side. Count him lucky for that.”

”When we finally chased them off… my love was in seven pieces”

When I arrived at Camp Drybone I knew little, save that people were going missing, and that my new acquaintances, the so-called Scions of the Seventh Dawn, believed that somehow this was linked to what they call a primal. I soon found though that the place was well acquainted with death itself. I learned that many come to the place in order to give their loved ones a final resting place, somewhere safe from the unforgiving nature of the deserts. As was usual I found myself drawn to helping the people here with whatever tasks they would have for me. I felt a want to give what little aid I could to a place full of grief and loss.

Ceaseless revenge and a last attempt at salvation were what I found myself set to first.

A woman, Caitlyn, asked of me a simple task. To slay seven of the dusty mongrels to the south, an oddly specific request I thought at the moment. The look in her eyes as she set me about the task though was almost like the embers of a fire that had been burning far longer than one would expect. Nevertheless, I set out with my trusted carbuncle companion to find the beasts. While they fought with a ferocity common to Thanalan we were able to bring them down with ease. The stratagems came to my mind with ease and carbuncle dashed across the battlefield as if reading my own mind had made it all the easier.

The second request I had gotten was from another woman, Tutusi, a similar request though for a different purpose. Her task for me was to slay a few myotragus nannies in order to feed a dying man in the hopes of bringing him from the brink. Unlike the mongrels, these were a docile target, at least until provoked. Despite how quickly I completed my task… it was too late as the man had passed shortly before I could return. Tutusi’s words to me afterward were not uncommon amongst those of U’ldah, always towards business and the tasks ahead. I wasn't sure if the grief I saw in her eyes was hers or if it was merely a reflection of my own at not making it back in time.

I think Tutusi could easily read my feelings though, as she soon set me on another task. Her words I imagine are true though, flowers would make for quite a bit of coin as mourners pass through the camp on their way to say goodbye. I am not entirely sure how I feel about looking at it with a gil framed lens but the tale of a life-filled area of the desert intrigued me. The comparison to the black shroud was hardly exaggerated I thought as I walked amongst the vegetation. Coming face to face with the goobbue said to be responsible for it brought on an odd mix of emotions.

”Some say the goobbue came down from the mountains at the time of the Calamity, and carried with him the seeds that became all those plants.”

It was there I met Jospaire, a botanist who was fascinated by the wild vegetation that thrived against all odds here. Through his instruction, we ensured the plants around the fallen goobbue would continue to thrive. A simple series of gathering water and the removal of pests current and future were all he asked of me. Once that was finished I gathered the blooms I had been sent to collect in the first place. Jospaire was ecstatic at what we had done and his joy felt like a balm compared to what I had experienced so far during my time here.

”I am convinced that what we see before us sprouted from the goobbue’s death. There’s a certain beauty to it all, no?”

”When it comes to offerings, they say the rarer the flower, the happier the dead. And Althyk lavender is nothing if not rare.”

Perhaps there is more than just death and grief to be found here. If nothing else the small amounts of comfort I can bring to the people here should ease their minds. With luck, Thancred and I can soon put an end to the disappearances only adding to the troubles of this place. Perhaps this newfound power I wield, The Echo, as Minfilia called it, will be of use to me in our endeavors.

~ Mariam Shallaen, of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn