#ffxiv duskwight

[cleric-stanced]

💚

—————

Rough Sketch Commission

[void4brainz]

who else thinks he looks like a slinky

[mori3322]

Crum, elezen, duskwight, he is goldwillow's partner

[amberwound]

poltergeist

[punchelf]

Monument

Elftober, Day 2

[whatsthisascianbullshit]

There's only one way to go This is the way back home

Maps - Lesley Roy

[starres-stuff]

Day 12: Aetheryte

"After a week in the Far East, I am more than ready to go home. Instead of waiting for the boat, I am going to take this little Aetheryte here to Old Sharylan, rest a bit, and go from there."

[laspocelliere]

Day Fourteen: Telling

“Rather telling, don’t you think?”

The nobleman’s voice wasn’t as quiet as he might have hoped, but Aymeric didn’t turn. Those assembled nearby would have the decency (he hoped) to keep to good manners, and therefore be forced to follow the Lord Commander’s example of not taking the bait.

Bait that it most certainly was.

Following church services, it was a well-established practice for the nobles of the Pillars to assemble on the steps outside, taking any shameless opportunity to rub shoulders with the highest members of the Holy See. The air was bright and bitter, forcing groups to huddle together against the chill; all the better to whisper secrets and gossip amongst one another, before retreating behind the high walls of their warm and carefully barricaded homes.

Aymeric stood with his back to the enormous cathedral doors, staring out towards the spires and staircases of Ishgard below. At his side, Lucia was ever-watchful, a friend and bodyguard both, prepared to run interference with any individual who thought to seek favour with the Lord Commander without a proper audience.

She could not, however, shut out the blatant speculations that those around them didn’t even have the propriety to whisper. 

“To bring the Warrior of Light into this melee is blatant favouritism,” the voices continued, and Aymeric was too used to wary eyes on his back at all times to notice. “Do you think he’s sweet on her?”

“Smitten for sure,” came another voice, only to be immediately cut off by another, scoffing woman.

“Witchcraft, more like it. Spellbound. Have you seen her? No one could take any infatuation with her seriously.”

“It’s probably political.” The man who spoke was well prepared for the cold, puffed up in padded velvets and heavy furs, his heavily dyed moustache elegantly curled in anticipation of being around all of Ishgard’s finest that morning. “The Lord Commander is many things to be sure, but I don’t think I would call him a fool. He’s using that girl just as easily as he commands any of our fine dragoons.”

At Aymeric’s side, Lucia made a quiet, questioning noise, but the Lord Commander shook his head minutely. These whispers were meant to be overheard, and were begging to be engaged with. They knew they could be heard, and wanted dearly for Aymeric to chime in, to cast his lot to confirm one rumour or another as true. 

He would give them nothing.

“I agree with Lord Hugh,” another portly voice said comfortably, puffing around his elegant (if well-used) pipe. “She may be a skilled warrior, but she’s just a girl, and a Duskwight girl at that. She’ll probably happily fall into any bed that will catch her, if she hasn’t done so with half the regiment already to get where she is now. Ser Aymeric is clever if he’s using that to his own advantage for Ishgard.”

“That girl? Please. Have you ever tried to speak to her? She’s frigid as a cold snap, and twice as hard to look at without your eyes watering. No military advantage is worth a night trying to pierce that ice.”

“Surely first you’d need to find a way to pry them apart, aye?”

Their laughter was well-worn and comfortable, high-bred men and women who were perfectly at ease with their own places in life, and the subjugation of everyone who fell below them on the social ladder. Their insults came as naturally to them as breathing, and it would never occur to a single one of them that they should mind their tongues when so close to the subject of their gossip.

Lucia made another quiet noise, but Aymeric was far too focused on calming the furious ringing in his ears.

“Well,” one of the women sighed, and Aymeric caught her doe-eyed, longing gaze in his direction, clearly having lost hope that he was going to be baited to engage in their speculations. “Whatever the case, hopefully the Lord Commander knows what he’s doing. That sort of favouritism won’t do well long-term, I fear.”

“Indeed.” There were several pairs of eyes on him now, and Aymeric felt his shoulders stiffen and straighten beneath their weight, an instinct drilled in him since childhood. He was untouchable, unbreakable. Their words were like rainfall on steel; loud and persistent, but otherwise harmless.

Think instead on the curve of her neck, the shine of sunlight in her hair. The phantom memory of comforting mists and mountains when he pressed his face into the curve of her shoulder. The way she moulded against his chest when he pulled her to him. The rare, bright smile that he’d only ever seen turned in his direction, and only ever alone; a precious secret that he would take to his grave.

These people and their rumours were nothing. 

She was everything.

The little knot of nobles moved away, whispering properly amongst themselves now, likely speculating exactly what it meant that the Lord Commander hadn’t quelled any of their wild rumours, nor attempted to set them straight. He didn’t turn as they left, and eventually, Lucia lost the wary, coiled stance that she’d worked herself up into over the course of the conversation. 

It was a long time before Aymeric exhaled properly, certain that he was still being watched. 

You need to be more careful. He chided himself silently, refusing to let his face give away a single one of his thoughts. While the rumours were altogether harmless, the last thing he needed was for someone to accidentally stumble on the truth and sell it for fact. He belonged to her just as thoroughly as she belonged to him, and it was such a carefully guarded secret that he barely let himself remember the truth of it in the fullness of daylight. For her safety, for his own, and for the good of Ishgard; no one could know the truth.

And today they had started to stumble a little too close.

You need to be more careful.

He repeated the mantra to himself as he headed down the stairs towards the Pillars. Even as the whispers continued. Even as he nodded politely to Lord Fortemps as he passed, as though he were any other nobleman.

Even as he planned to meet her in secret that night, danger or not.

[sketchy-nick]

I 💙 this blue bard

[shadowsofhades]

Assorted level 100 Progress

[zeloinator]

DAWNTRAIL SPOILER-Y OC (like from lvl 97-100 so late game I am sorry, also a little bit about my thoughts about Dawntrail before it came out)

One of my *BIG* theories, based purely on Solution Nine's concept art being so purple, was the lightning shard would be involved in some way. And I made an OC for it! And.. well now I can actually take pictures of her in more of her actual environment (vs attempting to make allagan stuff a bit more cyber focused) \o/ so... here is Tourmaline Sillaite (previously Ophelia since now I know some naming conventions)

I'm so happy to pose her more eventually \o/

(Sorry for the ramble at the beginning i was just so happy I was putti g pieces together cprrectly while playing, tho i am sad my 2 ‘far fetched’ theories (Raen lore in the big mountain area, and Erenville being a prince and he is keeping that shit SECRET) were very incorrect~

[il-mhegs]

lunnae out here doing hot duskwight shit

[void4brainz]

[witchofishgard]

𝓞𝓯 𝓢𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓼

[amberwound]

follow the night light

[punchelf]

"Hello"

Elftober, Day 1