#ffxiv fluff prompts

[snotsloth]

14 Embraces from behind where the other person nuzzles their nose into your neck

I had fun with this prompt! Thank you for the excuse to write Orion/Aymeric fluff. Kinda want to make this a longer piece, but for now it's just the two of them mostly talking the night before the battle of Ala Mhigo.

...

Orion slid his fingers under the rims of his round spectacles to rub the haze from his fatigued eyes. Leaning against a table covered in various potions, poultices, and balms, he tried to bring the labels into focus. Did that one say Hi-Ether or Hi-Elixir? He picked up the flask, bringing it almost to the tip of his nose. Ether. Hi-Ether. He set it back down and made a note on the checklist laid on the table before him.

He was just about to reach for another flask when two long arms clad in black leather and ornate gold bracers wrapped around his narrow waist. He felt soft lips press against the back of his neck, right on the seam between obsidian scales and red skin. Tense shoulders immediately sagged and Orion leaned back into Aymeric's embrace. Aymeric hummed, squeezing Orion tighter and burying his nose in short umber hair, thick as velvet.

"How did I know I would find you here?" Aymeric muttered against the back of Orion's head.

Orion closed his eyes, blocking out as much of the bustling camp as he could, and focused on the grounding touch of the lover he had missed for months. Azema, allow me this indulgence, he thought to himself.

The two pressed against one another in silence, letting everything else slip into a muffled hum of camp life.

"Kendra?" Orion finally asked, wondering after their other mutual lover.

Orion could feel Aymeric's smile pressed to the skin just behind his horn when he answered, "Last I saw, she was fast asleep in a pile of miqo'te under one of the M Tribe's big communal sleeping pavilions. I think she was droo9ling on M'naago's shoulder.

Orion chuffed a soft laugh. At least one of them was getting proper rest before the trials of the morrow.

"So..." Aymeric pressed his hands against Orion's hips to turn him away from the inventory table and towards himself. "I thought it only appropriate to let her continue to rest and come after you myself."

Orion looked down at Aymeric's upturned face. Long, black lashes drooped over bright blue eyes. His flawless porcelain skin glowed in the indirect light of camp torches. Unable to resist, Orion reached up to caress the soft skin of Aymeric's cheek with his thumb. Aymeric leaned into the touch and Orion cupped the side of his face with a broad palm.

"So, can I tempt you back to my very plush Commander's tent, or will I have to send an entire platoon after you to force you to rest?"

"Hmmm..." Orion mused. He fiddled with a silky black curl that had fallen over Aymeric's brow. "These supplies really do need to be cataloged and distributed to the field teams before we deploy in the morning, and- "

"And I'm sure there is a very eager young non-combatant somewhere in this camp who can get that taken care of while those who will be on the front line, yourself included, get a full night's rest." With a gentle but firm grip, Aymeric began to pull Orion away from the lines of bottles.

"But Aymeric, I can't-" Orion stammered.

"You can't effectively fulfill your role tomorrow if you don't get a full night's rest tonight. You know one of the greatest healers of our generation once told me, 'You can't keep your people alive if you're dead on the floor. A healer's first job is to stay alive and their second job is to take care of their own body."

Orion groaned and leaned back into Aymeric's space to steal a kiss. "How dare you use my own words against me? You absolute politician."

"I would have less cause to do so if you took your own advice more often," Aymeric retorted, smirking triumphantly.

"Fine," Orion groused, kissing Aymeric again. "Fine." One more kiss. "Sargent!"

Orion waved over a young hyur in a Storm medic's uniform. Turning to face him, Orion handed over his notepad and pen. "I am under orders from the Lord Speaker to relinquish my current task and get some rest before we deploy. Would you see to it that someone finishes this inventory check and distributes these supplies to all the field medic team's deploying tomorrow?"

"Yes sir," the young man saluted enthusiastically, a little star struck by the seven foot Warrior of Light and the Lord Speaker of the Ishgardian Senate. "Rest well, sir."

"Thank you, Sargent. Dismissed," Orion turned to leave, catching Aymeric's arm in his own. "Is it just me, or do they look younger every year?" he muttered under his breath.

"Just wait until you visit Ishgard next and meet Lucia's latest class of cadets. I swear half of them haven't hit their final growth spurt. They all look like newborn chocobo chicks, all knobby knees and oversized feet."

Aymeric led Orion through the dusty lanes of the Alliance camp. With the sun having set less than an hour ago, things were still lively. Soldiers gathered at bonfires, eating rations. Nightt patrols rolled out towards the edges of camp. An entire legion of support staff swarmed the supply trains, ensuring all was made ready for the morning. The soft chanting of hymns rose from the Ishgardian tents. Orion breathed deep of the quickly cooling night air.

"Thank you, Aymeric, for looking out for me," Orion said after a moment of companionable silence between them. "I still get caught up in my own head on nights like this. I don't know if I will ever grow accustomed to military life. I just find my mind swirling with a maelstrom of what-ifs, and probabilities, and contingencies, and expected casualty numbers."

Aymeric squeezed Orion's arm, comfortingly.

"I think every military leader indulges in some amount of anxiety on the eve of battle, or at least every good one that I have known. It should never be easy, knowing that on the morrow you will send thousands of good people to their deaths. That should weigh on a commander's conscience, no matter the righteousness of the their cause. But one way to ensure you get as many of them out alive as you can is to make sure that you are rested, clear-headed and ready for battle yourself.

Orion nodded silently, eyes cast down to his boots as they continued to make their way down a track packed smooth by thousands of feed and cartwheels over the course of recent days.

"Orion, darling," Aymeric stopped and turned to look him in the eye. Orion also turned and looked up, face still tense with anxiety. "We are as prepared as we can be. Tomorrow you will have the might of five nations and the Ala Mhigan resistance at your back. Everyone who is here believes our common cause is just and worth sacrificing for. The weight of the star is not pressing against your shoulder's alone. We will free Ala Mhigo, all of us together. This is not your fight alone."

"You're right," Orion said, nodding. "Of course you're right. Thank you, love, for getting me out of my own myopic spirals, and for coming to fetch me."

"I just wish I could be there to do so more often," Aymeric said, pulling Orion close and wrapping his arms around his torso, holding him tight. "Now, enough musings. Let's get what rest we can. Will you stay with me tonight? I, for one, will sleep better with you beside me."

"The only thing better would be if we could get Kendra to join us. But I don't dare risk the wrath of twenty sleepy miqo'te women." "Agreed," Aymeric laughed. "We don't dare."

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Horace

Prompt fill for "a last minute emergency means they have to bring someone else with them on the date (e.g. child, little sibling, pet)" from here featuring Modern AU Beatrice and Zevlor...and Horace the corgi. SFW.

Special shoutout to @notyournhaama for continued support and choosing the prompt!

Beatrice: Hey Zev, turns out my roommate fucked off for the weekend and since my mum is away, I’ll need to bring Horace on our date. Is that okay? If not, that’s totally understandable and we can reschedule for another time.

Zevlor: No problem at all. See you tomorrow. <3

Beatrice: Thank you so much! See you then <3

***

“Ah, so that’s the famous Horace.” Zevlor teased as Beatrice and her corgi Horace approached him at the entrance to Bloomridge Park. This was their fifth date, for which he planned a romantic picnic in what he discovered to be her favorite park in Baldur’s Gate. My goodness, she looks stunning. What a pretty lavender sundress she’s wearing that shows off all her…assets. He glanced at the corgi and offered his hand for the dog to sniff. I see I meet with his approval. Good, good. I do so very much like your mistress, Horace.

Beatrice was beaming at the two. “Aw, you two are adorable! I’m sorry about—”

He met her gaze and smiled affectionately. She’s blushing! She’s truly the sweetest. “I told you---it’s not a problem, my dear. I even packed a treat or two for a certain good boy.”

Her brown eyes widened as she took the arm he offered her. “You didn’t have to! Now I feel bad. I can reimburse you, if you want.”

Like Hells you will, darling. “Bea, please. A few treats and a tennis ball didn’t put me out that much. My army pension and work at the bakery are more than enough, so please don’t worry.” She’s been open and honest with me about her anxiety…I do not wish to add to it.

“Okay, Zev.”

My gods, my heart is going to beat through my chest. The way she said my name. That sweet little smile. How…why…does she want me? Finding a bench under the shade of a large tree, he unpacked their picnic while she poured some water in a portable bowl for Horace. “Granted, I know little of how to train pet therapy dogs, but I’d say you’re doing famously with him, darling.”

Taking a bite of the salad he made, she smiled, her freckled cheeks flushing. “Oh thank you! Honestly, he makes it really easy. Horace has always been very chill, doesn’t go crazy barking at everything…anyways, I’m glad you like him. Or at least, tolerate him.” She took another bite and leaned back against the bench, chewing thoughtfully. “I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t like him.” Beatrice turned her head, her gaze meeting his.

Lathander’s light, is she—

Zevlor swallowed. “Am I that someone?” Please, let it be me.

“If you want to be.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he thought at first, he did not hear her correctly. Before he could respond, she continued and began to ramble adorably. “I know you’re older than me. You’re a tiefling. I’m a half-drow. You’re from Elturel. I’m from the Gate. But…” Her nose scrunched a little as she pouted even more adorably. Good gods, I’m not going to be able to say no to her, am I? “I like you, Zevlor. I’ve not had the best time dating,” Give me names, darling. “But with you? It’s been lovely so far, and I hope we…we…um…” She had neglected to notice Zevlor’s face inching closer to hers until their lips almost touched. “We could date? If that’s something you want? I—”

As his lips touched hers, he quite deftly removed the container of salad from her hands and placed it behind her. His hands then settled on her ample waist as he inched closer to her. “There’s nothing I want more, sweetheart.”

“Oh thank fuck for that, because I was so worried—”

He hummed softly as he kissed her again, and this time, he tugged on her lower lip ever so slightly. “You needn’t worry. Not anymore.”

Zevlor was not sure why those particular words resonated with his lady.

All he knew was that after he said that she blushed more, squealed, wrapping her long arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth.

Which was interrupted by Beatrice yelping when Horace licked her leg.

Horace, I thought you were on my side here!

“You naughty boy!” She laughed and picked up the corgi who began to lick him as well as her. “Mummy getting too much attention from Zev? Well too bad, Horace, because he’s going to be spending a lot more time with us.”

Those words resonated with Zevlor for all too familiar reasons. Since their first date (though if I’m being honest with myself, from the moment I saw her walk into Bex’s with her friend), he imagined them spending time together. However, he surprised himself with how domestic most of his fantasies were---cuddling, planning dates together, stealing kisses, holding her hand. Those were the fantasies that made him feel happy. And then there are the less than wholesome fantasies that make me feel like an old lecher.

She rubbed Horace’s head before placing him back on the blanket at her and Zevlor’s feet. “Maybe spending more time together…today?” Beatrice grinned. “With Nadia gone, I have the entire loft to myself. I could give you the grand tour,” Gods, you have the sweetest laugh. “And maybe watch a movie? Sit out on the deck? Whatever you want, Zev.”

Where have you been all my life? All the hardship and heartbreak…the horrors of war…being forced to leave Elturel…starting over in Baldur’s Gate…it’s all led me to you. Reaching for his beer, he sipped as he leaned back and with his other arm, wrapped it around her. “That sounds lovely, darling.”

She grabbed the container of salad and continued to eat. “Don’t worry---I’ll make sure to lock my bedroom door, so we don’t have Horace barging—OH.” Hilariously, she froze, her brown eyes wide. “What I mean is…umm…”

Alright, Zevlor. Let’s see if you still have it.

“As wonderful as Horace is, dear, the only tongue I want near me in your bedroom is yours.” He quipped, sipping his beer and smirking upon seeing her face blush darker than he had ever seen it.

Still got it.

[missazurerose]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 8

Stealth (extra credit day)

She thought it was far more likely her own beloved husband was running around the wards in that suit and she wanted to know what had possessed him to do such a thing. He could patrol if he wanted to as himself. Why the secrecy and stealth? .....

A memory struck her. “Is…is this the job you offered Estinien after the Scions disbanded?”

He chuckled. “He mentioned it?” She nodded. “I knew he would not take it. But it is a great deal of fun to annoy him with things of this nature.”

___________

Posting a little (a lot) later than I meant to. I was out all afternoon so I didn't get a chance to sit and write like normal. And the idea had come pretty easily but I just wasn't in a position to do anything about it. I can't believe I've made it 8 days into this challenge. Do you know how hard it is for me to do anything this consistently? The best that usually happens when I write is "do everything right now and get the idea out immediately because if you don't it'll be gone and you'll never get it back" or "write 2 lines from the end of the story cause that's all you got and trying to develop the how we got here part is impossible."

[eva-cybele]

wolmeric week day 4: date

Kaede sat on the edge of a small half-wall in the Jeweled Crozier, dangling her feet over the abyss as she stared morosely at the broken half of her dark knight soul crystal. The mystery that was Myste hung heavy in the back of her mind, floating amongst the ache of grief and guilt that his appearance had dredged up to the surface. She had left him in Falcon’s Nest under Sid’s care, but could not seem to banish him from her mind, even upon her return to Ishgard.

If she went home like this, Aymeric would worry. Better to get herself reassembled into something approaching sanity before she did.

Home… The thought tugged a small smile to the corner of her mouth despite the malaise that lingered in her heart. Not long ago, home might have been the Rising Stones, or her mother’s home on the south shore of Bronze Lake. Never would she have guessed it would mean the grey stone streets of Ishgard, or a modest manor house on the edge of the Pillars.

Sighing, Kaede tucked the broken black crystal into the pouch that still held two other stones, one a brilliant red and the other a pale blue.

“There you are. I was beginning to think that you had left the city.”

Startled out of her reverie, Kaede whipped her head around to find herself face-to-face with the exact man she had been – well. Not avoiding, but… delaying seeing.

Aymeric lowered himself to sit on the wall next to her, though he – perhaps wisely – kept his boots on the side that had solid stone ground, rather than churning open air. The contrast was not lost on her. Always he was the steady one, unshaken even by great upheaval, and she was always flitting hither and yon, blown about by the winds of fate.

Shaking her head to clear it of such spiralling thoughts, she leaned back to catch his eye, covering his hand where it lay on the wall with her own. With effort, she summoned a smile to her face that she hoped did not look as wan as it felt. “Hi. I did, actually, for a little while. Just to Falcon’s Nest, to help a friend with something.”

Black brows knit themselves together as Aymeric studied her face, and she couldn’t help but turn away from his scrutiny. Foolish, to think she could hide anything from him, honestly.

The expected inquiry about her state of mind did not come, however. Perhaps he trusted her to come to him with it in her own time. Instead, he reached over and tucked a loose lock of hair back into her braid, his hand lingering a moment longer than was strictly proper. “Full glad am I that you returned in time, then. I would hate for my plans for the evening to go unfulfilled.”

Glancing back over at him, Kaede chewed on her lower lip in thought, trying to remember if he had mentioned anything that morning as they’d gotten out of bed. Aside from perhaps being a bit more affectionate and loathe to leave for his meetings than usual, she could think of nothing that was out of the ordinary.

At a loss, she tilted her head at him in curiosity. “Plans?”

Aymeric’s eyes crinkled a bit on the edges in suppressed amusement. “So you have forgotten the date, then. I thought that perhaps you might. Pray allow me to refresh your memory – exactly one year ago today, you, my dearest, accepted an invitation to dinner.”

Seven hells.

She was not overly accustomed to the tracking of time – with the busy nature of her life, timekeeping seemed a trifling matter, but there were a few dates that she should probably attempt to remember. This one neared the top of that list.

Sensing her mounting alarm, Aymeric ran a gloved palm over her scaled cheek, drawing her attention back to him. “You needn’t panic. I know full well how rigorous are the demands on your time, and how insignificant the tracking of the days compared to those demands. I merely wished to spend a quiet night in good company.”

His echo of her own words back to her, even a year on, made a small smile flicker across her face. “Still. I should have remembered, I’m sorry. It’s an important day to me, too.”

One year, much of which she had spent in Ala Mhigo or Doma, fighting the Empire, with only the occasional letter to grant her the company of his words, if not the rest of him. These two weeks in Ishgard were the longest that she’d ever spent in his presence, uninterrupted by anything more pressing than interminably-long meetings.

Or one of our soul crystals snapping in half and the arrival of a boy who looked like nothing less than the lovechild of Haurchefant and Ysayle –

She violently wrenched her attention back to Aymeric, refusing to allow that thought to take hold. This was not the time. Forcing herself into a smile, she leaned her cheek more fully into his hand. “What did you have in mind? I am completely at your disposal, my lord.”

A small amount of worry still lurked in the back of Aymeric’s gaze, but he seemed content to let it lie for now. Instead, he stood, and held out a hand. “All you need do is accompany me, my lady, and I will show you.”

Curiosity drew her along as surely as her hand in his, and she did not miss the stares of various passersby as they walked hand-in-hand down to the aetheryte plaza. Their relationship was – not exactly a secret, there was very little in Ishgard that was truly secret – but not something either of them flaunted, either. The gesture felt like a small, public declaration, in a way, and the idea made Kaede’s heart squeeze uncomfortably tight.

She had no further time to ponder the ramifications of such a thing, however, as they arrive at the aetheryte and Aymeric lifted his hand to it.

Teleportation magic gathered around them both, and Kaede surrendered to the feeling, allowing herself to be whisked away on the same current that bore Aymeric towards whatever destination he had in mind.

When the magic faded, the first feeling to register was that of a cold wind against her face – far colder, even, than the icy summer breeze that had been blowing in the city they had left. Taking a deep breath, she noted the thinness of the air, and opened her eyes to see they had arrived in none other than Moghome, on the edge of the Churning Mists.

A large blue blanket was spread on the edge of the floating island that anchored the aetheryte, looking out over the western skies as the sun sank into the sea of clouds below them. A picnic basket, with a bottle of wine next to it, sat at the edge, next to a few more blankets and – travel supplies?

A quiet kweh accompanied a familiar beak bump against her shoulder, and Kaede looked up and behind to see Narcissus, her chocobo, shifting his weight back and forth as he looked at them expectantly, some of her typical traveling gear hanging from his saddlebags.

Kaede shot a confused look over at Aymeric as she reached up to scratch Narci’s neck. “What is all this?”

Aymeric tugged her by the hand over to the blanket, pulling her down with him as he sat. “Well, I was quite taken with the view here, the first time I saw it. I remembered how much I wished that we had more time to spend here, without impending doom hanging over our heads. So I thought it might be a welcome change to leave the city for a day or two.”

Curling her body closer to his for warmth, Kaede smiled up at Aymeric and shoved the memories of that particular impending doom – the dread and uncertainty that they would be able to save Estinien, made all the worse by her previous repeated failures – to the back of her mind.

“Sounds lovely, honestly. And you brought food? When did you have the time to set all this up, anyway?” While she had been moping and wandering around with Sid and Rielle, he’d been planning something sweet, and the thought only made her feel all the more guilty.

A look of surprise bloomed across Aymeric’s features, and then settled into an expression she could only describe as sheepish. “Ah. Well… Perhaps I had rather fewer meetings today than I might have led you to believe. Pray forgive my deception.”

As Aymeric handed her a meat pasty, still warm to the touch from the softly glowing fire crystals in the bottom of the basket, she wrinkled her nose at him in amusement. “I suppose I’ll let you get away with it this time, considering it was for a good cause.” She took a bite of the meat pie, and hummed in appreciation. Okeanis, one of her favorites. “You know, if you were going for the real adventurer experience, you wouldn’t have packed food nearly this good.”

Aymeric chuckled and reached back for a blanket, wrapping it around both of them. With the heated basket nearby, and hot food, it was almost cozy, even though the air still fair burned in her lungs. “I saw no need for either of us to deprive ourselves of comfort, tonight least of all.”

Quiet fell as they both tucked into their dinner, staring out in companionable silence at the brilliantly colorful sunset, until shadows fell across the island. A glass of wine found its way into her hand, and Kaede leaned her head against Aymeric’s arm as slowly, the stars began to emerge from beyond the curtain of dusk.

The perfect moment of peace began to crystallize as Aymeric cupped her cheek and leaned down, his breath warm against her lips, and then –

Narci, who had been happily munching on a basket of fruits, let out a loud KWEH and stamped the ground, and suddenly a chorus of frantic kupos echoed all around them as from every rock and crevice, moogles came tumbling out, only to fly like drunken bumblebees back towards Moghome, while Narci puffed up his snowy white feathers in indignation.

Fuzzy little shites. Aymeric sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation. "Perhaps you might know of a place to make camp where we are less likely to be disturbed?"

Kaede dropped her forehead to his collarbone and laughed. “I’m sure I can think of something.” The temptation to suggest that they head home to the comfort of their bed was strong, but the allure of there being no one else around to make demands on their time was even sweeter.

Together, they packed up the blankets and wine, and Kaede swung herself up onto Narci’s back, pleased to feel Aymeric’s warmth press firmly against her back as he mounted behind her. The last time they’d done this, she’d been a touch disappointed at how proper and polite he’d been, his hands not wandering even a little.

This time, though, there was no such disappointment, and more than once she almost forgot what she was meant to be doing, as they flew over the Churning Mists. The northern half of the island cluster was still too densely populated by the mad remnants of Nidhogg’s brood, but the southern half was nigh-to-infested with bloody moogles, and Kaede didn’t want to disturb Hraesvelgr at Zenith or Shiva’s shrine. In the end, only one good option presented itself, and Kaede turned Narci towards the small clearing where she’d made camp with Ysayle and the others, so long ago now.

No sooner had they dismounted than Aymeric caught her by the shoulders and pulled her into a heated kiss, one made all the more fervent by the delay.

By the time he released her, she felt dizzy, though whether it was the kiss, the wine, or the thin air, she wasn’t sure. Regardless of the reason, she was loathe to let him go, even though one of them really should scout the area, and someone needed to build a fire, and pitch the tent, and…

A thumb brushed over her cheek scales. “Shall we make camp, then?”

She sighed in disappointment, and nodded, reluctantly loosening her grip on his coat. “We should. Fortunately, as we flew over, I didn’t see any dragons or meliae nearby. And Narci makes for a pretty good watch-bird, as you saw.”

Aymeric smiled as he stepped back and busied himself with unpacking the tent and bedroll. “Why did he react like that to a bunch of harmless moogles?”

After setting a few alarm mammets around the perimeter and seeing to Narci’s greens and water, a quick survey of the area yielded enough tinder for a small fire. “Oh, a few of them tried to dye his tailfeathers purple. I don’t think he would have minded that overmuch, except then they pulled a few out. Ever since then, he’s had a vendetta. Hells hath no fury like a chocobo scorned. Especially a vain one with a brand new bald spot.” As she talked, Kaede focused her aether into a much weaker version of a verfire spell. The small flame was the best she could do without a focus, but it was enough to catch the dry leaves and small branches, with rather less effort than flint and steel.

“Well, in that case, I don’t believe I can blame him in the slightest.” Tent pitched – and as neatly and quickly as if she’d done it herself – Aymeric came to join her at the fire. “Have you camped here before? It seemed as if you had this place in mind from the first.”

Kaede hesitated as she looked around the clearing, seeing Ysayle, Estinien, Alphinaud, and Marz almost as clearly as if the Echo had shown them to her again. “I… Yes. The last night, before we met with Hraesvelgr, we made camp here. ‘Twas the last time we were all together. After that, Ysayle had her crisis of conscience, then Marz tried to leave after we slew Nidhogg, and then…” She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chin and resting her arms on them. “It was nice. There was bickering, of course, but it was comfortable, by then. Even between Estinien and Ysayle.” The ache in her heart from earlier rose up again, and this time would not be forced back down. “She deserved better than to die alone at the hands of the damned Imperials. All so we could get to Azys Lla.”

She felt, rather than saw, Aymeric’s wince. “She did. I regret every day my part in sending you to that place. It cost you one dear friend, and nearly cost both of us another.”

Leaning her weight against his side, she shook her head. “I would have gone anyway. You asking was just a formality.” She sighed, and stared at the fire. “It had to be done, but Estinien was right, when he said that vengeance takes more than it gives.”

In avenging Haurchefant, she lost Ysayle. In ending the cruelty of the Heaven’s Ward, she caused the suffering of those who loved them. Never had that been more apparent than today, when she was faced with Ser Ignasse’s cousin. Even twisted into primals, without hope of redemption, still they had families. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons.

An act alike to patricide, he called it once. As if we were merely the weapon, and his the hand that wielded it.

She had always been too afraid to broach that topic. It was too large, her hatred for the man too deep, her regard for Aymeric too important to her.

It was just another sin, piled upon many.

Quietly, above her head, Aymeric’s voice caught her attention. “There was nothing you could have done. She made her choice. We all did.”

Somehow, she did not think he was speaking solely of Ysayle.

Swallowing back a lump of grief, the words slipped out before she could bite them back: “I’m sorry. About your father.”

A deep sigh huffed out into the cold night air, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Aymeric cast a look up into the heavens, as if searching for answers he had yet to find on solid ground. “As am I, believe me. I do not pretend to understand the choices he made, and I wish that things could have gone differently, but – he was lost long ago. It was… mercy. And I thank you for it. I regret that it is you who has had to bear so much of the weight of his choices, most of all.” Aymeric pressed a kiss against the crown of her head, and the tender gesture almost broke the dam of sorrow that she had been building for the last two years, but it held for now. “We should go to bed, I think. ‘Tis always easier to dispel such thoughts in the light of day, in my experience.”

Kaede nodded, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil all your hard work in putting together such a lovely night.”

She was trying for light-hearted, but even she could tell how flat that attempt had fallen.

Aymeric shook his head, emphatically. “You have done no such thing. In fact, full glad am I to have spoken of this – you have seemed… out of sorts, of late. I did not wish to pry, but…” His hand squeezed hers. “You know you can always speak to me, if you are troubled.”

As she looked up into earnest, worried blue eyes, the guilt of not mentioning Myste and the business with her soul crystal ate at her, but how would she even begin to explain? When she did not yet understand it herself?

Later. I promise.

Instead, she linked her other hand in his, and rising up on her toes, brushed a kiss against his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

With a squeeze, she stepped back and shed her armor, piling it neatly inside the flap of the tent, dimly aware by the rustle of chain and cloth that Aymeric was doing the same. Stripped to her underarmor in the cold air, she all but dove under the blanket in the tent. Fortunately, she was not alone long.

It had been a long damned time since she had shared blankets with anyone while traveling for reasons beyond simple sleeping, and as Aymeric drew her close, it felt as if the world had shrunk down to naught but fabric and warmth and mingled breath, more close and intimate than even their bedroom. The worries and the sorrows could stay outside in cold under the stars for tonight.

For now, she would choose to spend her evening as she had told him she wished to, a year ago – quiet, and in good company.

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #08 - Spontaneous

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #8 - You Pick - Spontaneous

Note: This is how Briar ends up with some Silkie chickens!

Briar looked around, green eyes wide and fascinated. He couldn't stop turning his head, trying to see everything at once between the beautiful shops, bright colours, and general people flowing around the market stalls. Too busy staring, the half-Elezen didn't notice unevenness in the cobblestones and gasped as he tripped. Pain shot through his right leg where the deep claw marks on his thigh were still healing. For a moment, Briar teetered, trying to catch himself with one weak leg.

"Whoa! Easy!" Aeluan said, reaching out quickly to wrap a thick arm around Briar's slim waist, half-lifting the half-Elezen. "Steady now." After a long moment, he eased Briar back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Briar turned bright pink and nodded, clearing his throat sheepishly. "Y-yes. S-sorry," he murmured, brushing his hair behind his ears. "I wasn't watching w-where--"

The Raen paladin gave a soothing chuckle, carefully patting Briar's back. "It's okay. New, huh?"

Briar nodded and looked around, ears working and eyes darting. "Yes. It's so..busy and bright." He instinctively moved a little closer to Aeluan as a pair of Roegadyn porters with heavy loads balanced on their shoulders. "I have no idea where to start."

Aeluan laughed and flashed Briar a bright smile. "Well…I guess we start at one end of the market and head toward the other. Let's go, but let me know if you get tired."

Briar nodded obediently, one slim hand clinging a little to Aeluan's loose sleeve for comfort as he followed the Raen forward. While he was careful to stay close as Aeluan had urged, he gradually relaxed into exploring with the other.

As the day passed, Briar got to see beautiful silks and lovely carvings. He got to try a bite of dango, fried treats that he didn't know the name of, and some fruits dipped in honey. They even paused for a few minutes at a shadow puppet show, which fascinated Briar who gasped and stared as much as the children also there.

It was afternoon and Briar was starting to feel tired, but shook his head when Aeluan asked if he was ready to go back. There wasn't much left of the market and he wanted to see it all. This end was mostly various fish and animals for sale. He watched fish with long elegant fins in small bowls and gasped at the sheer mass of huge koi as they lazily circled a large but shallow bowl. He patted a few sheep and cooed over a few young ponies before the sound of familiar peeping caught his attention.

"Oh! Chickens!" Briar said with delight, heading toward a stall that had several baskets and bamboo cages holding various birds, who clucked and peeped. Many of them were quite different from his chickens at home, which were smallish, sleek birds used to foraging and avoiding danger on their own. Some of the chickens were massive with fluffy legs who clucked and regarded him with interest. Some were long-legged and tight-feathered with flowing tails.

"They're so pretty," Briar said with awe, missing Aeluan's look of bemusement. Most probably wouldn't find a handful of chickens so fascinating. "Oh, what are those?"

The half-Elezen was caught by a basket of six or seven little chicks. At a glance, they weren't much different than normal chickens. Then Briar noticed their feathers were strange, almost like fur. With a glance to make sure the vendor didn't mind, he picked up one, admiring the silky soft fluff that didn't have the stiffness regular feathers did. Briar murmured in surprise, now seeing that the chickens had very dark legs and beaks. Even their skin was a deep ebony-black that was nearly blue. "How strange!" He looked up at the vendor, a smiling Hingan woman. "What are they?"

"Chickens!" she said in heavily accented Common.

Briar smiled and nodded. "Oh! Yes, but…what kind? Their feathers are so different."

"Oh!" she laughed and pointed. "Silkie! Silkie chicken!"

Briar hummed in thought and nodded. He could see why they had such a name. Compared to the feathers of other chickens, they were indeed silky soft. He stroked the one in his hands, admiring the soft grey feathers. The others were a mixture of colours: soft golds and creams, a brown one, and one that was pure black. "They're lovely," he said wistfully, gently setting the little chick down.

The little chicken wobbled a moment and then peeped, turning back toward Briar. It tried to get closer, peeping in protest at the basket being in the way. Likely it was just Briar's warm hands the little bird was missing, but the half-Elezen looked a little stricken, reaching for a moment to stroke the chick's back. "Sorry, little one. I have to leave."

Aeluan had watched Briar handling the bird curiously, enjoying his happy fascination and delight. Now, the redhead's ears were tipped down and he looked sadly at the little bird before starting to turn away. In a moment of spontaneity, Aeluan looked at the vendor. "How much?" He gestured toward the basket. "How much for those?"

The vendor smiled, naming a price even as Briar gave a noise of surprise. "Oh! Aeluan, you don't--"

The paladin waved a hand with a smile, paying over the price without complaint. It might have been a little high, but he had plenty of coin to his name. It was worth it to see Briar's ill-hidden joy. "Don't worry about it. We'll find somewhere for them to stay until you can get them home."

Briar could only make a noise of delight as the vendor checked the chicks and then covered the basket, pushing it into his hands. "Yours now," she said quite happily. "They are good chickens, nice chickens. They taste good and have nice eggs," she nodded. "Best chickens to me."

"I--O-oh.." Briar hugged the basket carefully against his chest. Inside, the chicks peeped and rustled, settling into the hay at the bottom. Briar just clutched them and looked up at Aeluan, eyes stinging a bit. "Thank you, Aeluan. They're beautiful."

Aeluan wouldn't have guessed a few chickens could make someone so happy, but Briar's smile gave no doubt that in this case, they very much did.

Aeluan belongs to @valdiis / @sword-and-surfboard

[the-sycophant]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt 01 - Steer

Words | 682 ——————–

“Faster!”

She could imagine it, the bite of wind at her cheeks and ears, the cold at her toes. The sound of snow crunching underneath as she paved her way through it, molding the terrain to her command like she was a god. A god rushing down a smooth, untouched hill on a sleekly polished sled. Her knuckles ached from squeezing the rim of it, her elbows. A bumpy ride regardless, she hit roots and stones. Almost tipped each time. Almost.

Calyx was a professional at this, even with just his one arm. He had said it was a different creature that had taken it each time she would ask, and always had a different, but elaborate story to go along with it. A morbol, a wolf, a chocobo, a wooly yak that had suddenly been bestowed with the mad desire for human flesh. He had said it was another person, once, too. That interested her the most. He never said that again.

“Watch out! It’s a bear!!”

“I see it.”

His voice was soft, as it always was. She had never heard him speak above a whisper. It helped reign in her delighted screeching. 

Somewhat.

“A BEAR!! I’m gonna jump over it…and it’s not gonna get me!”

Wicker creaked as she tugged on its handles, trying to pick up speed, trying to BE speed. She was going to fly over it, she could see it in her mind. She could make the jump! She bent low in her sled-

“Oh, but what reach it has!”

“Calyx!!”

“It’s gonna get ya!”

She did fall, then, as the arm holding the basket she sat in made her fall. Made her tumble to the ground and squeal. The stone was not as fluffy as she imagined snow to be. It wasn’t at all like falling into a cloud of iced cream. “Waaaaah!” A loud, albeit playful, wail as said bear did get her. Her laughs were shrill, hiccuping, face red as she was tickled, as he *chomp chomp chomped* at her. “W-wait! My…my dress! My…you’re getting it dirty!”

He sat back, apologized, murmured that it was ‘just life’, that bears ‘had to eat too’.

But he had gotten her this dress- a coat, really. Powder blue and fluffed with so much fluff, balls of fur puffing out and swinging on woven strings. Pretty wooden buttons and shiny, pearlescent stitchings. She dusted herself off, stood. It was her most favourite dress. The prettiest. He had seen it while he was away, said he thought she would look cute in it. She did. She looked very cute, felt very pretty. “I wanna go again!”

“Now-”

“I wanna…I wanna…the bear- I was gonna fly over it. I was going so fast. Did you see!”

“Yes.”

“And I almost made it the whole way down this time.” She picked up her shiny sled, the wicker basket. Hoisted it over her head and held it high. “And I almost made it. And I couldn’t get around the bear.”

“I know.”

“I wanna go again, Cal! I wanna-”

“Brother.” 

She jumped, shrieked. Dropped the basket on her head and started running before she was grabbed. The basket grabbed. She wriggled, fought.

She was held.

“Mother would be displeased.” The masked man rumbled, eying the pair. Eying her dress.

They were to be reprimanded for ‘slacking’, for being caught outside of prayer.

“P-please, Cal…can’t I keep it? It’s mine!”

She was wailing proper now, blubbering into the pretty sleeve of her pretty dress as she held his hand. “It’s mine and you…and you got it for me! Please don’t let them take it away! It’s mine! I like it! I’m sorry- please don’t take it away!”

It was dark where they were going. It only made her cry harder.

“I-I-it’s mine and…I just wanna…go sledding I...I’ll let you steer this time, It’s…I just got it- it’s mine and…and…”

And he only said that he would get her a new one. When he could take her to see real snowy hilltops, feel the real wind and cold...then he’d get her a new one.

One of many lies.

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Seven

Prompt: Morsel Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin Word Count: 750 Notes: Digimon AU

Master List

A typical physical therapy session these days was walking on a treadmill for Nomin. After several successful weeks of building up her muscle and stamina, she was getting back into the swing of even doing short jogs. The string of successes left Nomin coming home all smiles as she did her own physical training later in her room. She had been doing arm curls with two kilo dumbbells, and then squats with an eight kilo kettlebell.

Teiamon was an excellent hypewoman herself, cheering on Nomin and even doing little exercises alongside her.

“That’s twenty!” Teiamon happily chirped, hopping up and then staying afloat in the air with a big smile on her face as she fluttered about. “You reached your goal, Nomin!”

The kettlebell was lowered to the ground and hit the rug with a rather audible thud. Nomin, though clearly breathing hard from exerting herself, stood up straight and grinned. She had been doing her stretches and exercises consistently every other day for a month now. Progress had been…well, it felt frustrating in the beginning, but now that Nomin had been able to actually lift and last much longer, she could not help but show her joy at the improvement.

“So, are you going to take Estinien up on his offer to do physical therapy with you?” Teiamon asked, hovering closer to Nomin. There was a bit of a tease to her tone as her smile turned cat-like.

Nomin’s face scrunched in response as she frowned. She would have happily taken Estinien up on his offer -- she had no idea he was actually into fitness and having an exercise regimen, truth be told. But…Nomin looked over to the full length mirror in her room, her expression falling as she looked at the fuzz of hair that sprouted from her head.

“I…would feel better seeing him…anyone, really, if I had a wig on… Just…you know, stretching and exercising with them on isn’t easy when I don’t use any adhesives to keep them on,” Nomin sighed. This response caused Teiamon to puff up and then flit over to perch herself on Nomin’s head.

“It’s just hair!” Teiamon said. “It’s already growing back, and it feels so soft! I think if anyone really likes being with you and around you, they won’t care that your hair is the way it is!”

Nomin gave an amused scoff. “Easy for you to say. You’re just a little ball of fluff and feathers!”

“And you love me!” Teiamon laughed, nuzzling Nomin’s head.

“More like I’m stuck with you, you little scamp,” Nomin shot back, reaching up and lifting Teiamon into her arms. The two of them giggled together, a bond formed over six years of having known one another. Nomin eventually settled, and she pet Teiamon idly. “But…maybe you’re right. I mean…he certainly didn’t have to visit me all that time in the hospital.”

“You can cross that bridge when you get to it,” Teiamon reassured Nomin. “If you’re shy about it, I’m not gonna tell you to go out of your way to be uncomfortable around people.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Teiamon. I do appreciate you putting some things into perspective for me at least. But…yeah, let me warm up to it.”

Just then, the sound of Nomin’s phone buzzing as it vibrated against the top of her dresser surprised she and Teiamon both.

Walking toward it, Nomin released Teiamon back into the air before grabbing it to see the notification. She had a text from Estinien.

“... It’s almost like he knew we were talking about him just a little bit ago,” Nomin commented.

“Maybe he does!”

“That would be concerning,” Nomin replied, shooting Teiamon a sheepish smile. She then viewed the text in its entirety.

‘Do you want to go to the Festival of Lights in the next hour or two? No Digimon allowed, unfortunately…’

Humming in thought, Nomin looked toward Teiamon with a bit of a frown. She explained briefly the text she received. “Would you be fine staying here with Esenaij and Bayarmaa? I assume Gonetomon has a plan to stay behind wherever Estinien lives.”

“I’m fine staying here! Besides, Bayarmaa gives me so many delicious treats and morsels sometimes!” Teiamon was clearly overjoyed by the prospect of her expected scenario, flying in circles overhead before diving into Nomin’s bed and hopping around excitedly.

“You seem more excited to stay here with my siblings than coming with me,” Nomin shot. “You sure you’re not actually one of their partner Digimon?”

[nidstiniens]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 10

Prompt: Stable Rating: G. Genre: Domestic fluff. Pairing: Estinien x WoL

Preview:

The scent of brown sugar and melted chocolate was what drew Estinien into the kitchen, but the sight of Nara sitting on the counter, waiting impatiently for whatever she'd put into the oven, was what kept him lingering in the doorway.

read on ao3 | ffxivwrite2024 masterpost

[redwayfarers]

enter - for the single-word fic prompt!

hello! sorry for being a wee bit late, but here is the fic for the prompt :> it's a part 2 to my bridgerton au for nika and artoirel, but you don't need to have read part 1. just know this is a retelling of season 1 and that artoirel is simon and nika is daphne.

bridgerton au 2 - 10 things i hate about you (affectionate)

fandom: ffxiv characters: artoirel de fortemps, nika perseis (wol), thancred waters, minfilia warde, mina fiore, lucretia fiore ship: nika/artoirel, nika/minfilia rating: gen words: 1926 divider by @saradika

Nika wants to die. 

It’s not even that much of an exaggeration. His mother sits there, in a glorious, pink dress, and Lucretia stands by her side, in cavalier uniform, all handsome and tall; Artoirel approaches with a little box in his hand, and with a voice that’s as serious as it is hot, announces his intention to ask for Nika’s hand in marriage. 

Now, it’s a fucking farce, and his moms know it, but nevertheless, Nika’s throat is oddly tight and he’s struggling to not tear the cravat off and running away to avoid having to watch this– shitshow of a fake proposal. It doesn’t mean shit. It’s a performance, and Artoirel’s doing an amazing job of making it seem real, but it’s all fluff, there’s no substance to it. 

So why is his face burning up? 

“We should ask him, Lord Fortemps,” his mother says cheekily and turns to face him. Nika wants to strangle her. “Nika, do you want to marry this man?” 

“We talked about this–” Nika bites out, clicking his fingers. “This isn’t a real proposal. We’re not seriously about to march down into a church to get married. This is a farce, a charade, not a real thing, I hope this is clear to everyone here, right?” 

“Entirely, Nika,” Artoirel says. “But there are certain rituals that must be observed regardless, if only for the authenticity of our fraud. Should anyone ask, I did come and ask for your hand in marriage and your mothers can confirm.” 

Nika takes a deep breath. Lucretia barely contains a laugh. “Fine. I do want to marry this man.” If anything, he gets to walk around with a handsome man for a few months and then break it off and go play music without interruptions again. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“You have our blessings, sir,” Lucretia says. “This reminds me of when I proposed to Mina! How romantic!”

Both Nika and Artoirel look at her at that. Artoirel’s somewhat red in the face, which Nika safely avoided due to the complexion of his skin, but it doesn’t mean his ears aren’t burning up. 

“Excuse me, sir Lucretia, there is nothing romantic about this arrangement between your son and I –” 

Nika sighs, rubbing his face. “Just put that fucking finger on me and we can all go about our day.” 

Artoirel opens the dark, satin box, pulls out a diamond ring and puts it on Nika’s finger. His hands are steady - almost forcefully so - and his fingers long and thin. For a moment their eyes meet. Artoirel’s so much taller than him that Nika has to look up, and when he does, he notices that the dark blue of Artoirel’s hair goes against the sunrise painted on the wall behind him. Their fingers are still joined together. 

He clears his throat and they separate. Lucretia runs a hand through her hair and smiles. Nika glares at her. 

And just like that, he’s now spoken for. 

It would’ve been easier if he found someone a touch.. Uglier, though. At least mamas are at bay now. 

**

Artoirel wants to die. 

That, admittedly, is a hyperbolic statement. But he certainly doesn’t want to be alive in situations that make his face burn like a fireplace and that leave him open for scorn and worse yet, tease! He had not thought this plan through in the slightest, and he now deeply desires to claw something. Unfortunately, the parks are a property of the state and his desires are unsightly, so he simply has to endure. 

It turns out enduring is a rather difficult endeavor when one’s engaged to the brightest young musician in the country. Sir Lucretia’s teasing comments aside, Artoirel can see the many benefits of the arrangement he and Nika formed in retaliation to the frustrating existence as members of the nobility, and in particular its demands for matrimony. He recalls how distant his parents were when his mother was alive; for a long time, he’d hoped he too would exist alongside his wife in a similar way, distant, half-way annoyed, cold. And while far from ideal, it was tolerable, as a thought and a possibility. Maybe even in reality. 

Yet now, when he walks in the park with Nika’s hand under his arm, their new engagement rings glistening in the sun, he feels anything but cold and distant. He’s all too aware of the press of their bodies, the way they’ve slowly fallen into the same rhythm of walking. When he looks in Nika’s direction, he’s hopelessly caught in the sunlight shining on his dark hair and the line of his nose and its round tip. 

Sometimes, he watches Nika’s lips move and the bobbling of his throat. Other times, he watches the arch of his brow and the hard stare in his eyes. Artoirel hates it as much as he does, truthfully. Nikita Perseis is vain, arrogant, rude, self-absorbed. Artoirel himself may not be much better in his eyes, but it’s hardly relevant. As Nika himself had said earlier that morning, they weren’t about to go to a church. 

This charade will have been over long before a church is even considered. And yet, he can’t help but wonder. He can’t help but think if Nika would be as radiant there, as bright as all the saints on stained glass windows. 

“You’re looking at me,” Nika says. His voice sounds strange, half-way between a strangled fondness and an angry rasp. 

“Am I not allowed to, my lord?” Artoirel lifts his head. “Remember to keep up this… Farce of ours. You could try and smile. The papers seem to think you have an awfully charming one.” 

“You mean that gossipy one everyone’s afraid of? The one who calls everyone out on their bullshit?” 

“I would say it spreads half-truths, but yes. Mind your language as well.”

Nika stops and looks up. “How about you get out of the fucking clouds for once? As soon as you do that, I may consider minding my language. Until then, fuck you.”

Artoirel lifts an eyebrow. “Do you want me to slouch for you? That is hardly good for my back, you see. Halone made the call for me when I was but a babe, after all.”

Nika stares. He then laughs raspily and digs his fingers in Artoirel’s arm. “I hate you so much, you asshat,” he says. It’s in that strange tone again, one that Artoirel wants to prod and study. 

A couple passes them by. A white-haired hyur man with purple marks on his neck and a blonde, hyur woman dressed in pink. It strikes him a moment too late who they are; Nika’s scowl has dropped and he looks wistful, almost sad. 

It is no secret that Sir Thancred Waters used to be one of Nika’s close friends. A fellow musician, their friendship bloomed until Nika was invited to play in court. Few know the details of the story, but Viscountess Whispers - the paper that, as Nika had said, “calls out everyone’s bullshit” - had her guesses when the fallout occurred. All of them were tied to the woman by Sir Waters’ side, Lady Minfilia Warde. 

Neither Thancred nor Nika made any comments. 

“Good day, my lords,” Lady Minfilia intones. Nika and Artoirel both turn to look at her. “I heard news of your engagement - my sincerest congratulations. I hope you have a wonderful life together.” 

“Indeed,” Sir Waters says, much less happily. 

“I’m sure the best you hope for me is to fall off a cliff, Thancred,” Nika replies. “No such luck, I’m afraid. As for you, Minfi– Lady Warde, I…” He swallows and looks away. He then looks at her with a strange look. “I suppose I should say thank you. I’m glad you didn’t wish me happiness of all things.” 

Minfilia gives a sad smile. “Your happiness is not mine to give,” she says softly. Nika takes a deep breath. 

“Our thanks, sir and lady,” Artoirel says. Nika looks at him gratefully. “Unfortunately, we must be on our way. Will you be in attendance at Lord Leveilleur’s ball tonight?” 

“I have prior obligations, alas,” Thancred replies. “But do give little Alphinaud my greetings, yes? It’s been a long time since I last had a chance to see him.” 

“And you, my lady?” 

Nika squeezes Artoirel’s arm. “Let’s go,” he whispers furiously. Artoirel ignores him. 

“I might attend, should my duties allow,” she says. “But do not let us keep you! Please, enjoy the rest of your day!” 

Nika’s lips are a thin line by the time they finally turn and leave. He relaxes them and closes his eyes. He looks visibly distressed. 

“Nika?” Artoirel reaches out a hand.

“Of all the people to run into, for fuck’s sake,” Nika hisses. “Not them. Not today. Not– Not them.”

“What happened between the three of you?” Artoirel asks, cautiously. He shouldn’t care, not really. Halone knows Nika wouldn’t care for him. And yet, here, in the watchful eye of the world, he feels the need to put a hand around the man he is betrothed to and banish that expression from his face. And he would be justified in doing so. It would only  strengthen the act. 

But there is too much truth in that to be an act. And that is frightening. 

“I loved her,” Nika says, after a while. “And Thancred is a piece of shit.” 

Artoirel puts a hand on Nika’s. It’s warm and sweaty, yet he lifts it up and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. 

Nika goes still. His eyes don’t stray from Artoirel’s. Artoirel feels his face burn. 

“Let’s walk,” he suggests. Nika desperately nods. The rest of their walk goes in silence.

This is entirely acceptable behavior from people who are to be wed, after all. 

**

Dear reader, 

The season is off to a marvelous start! Many a couple graces the well-worn paths of our parks and our streets; a striking presence each, if only by the love that seems to gently whirl around in the air this time of year. Few, however, are as remarkable as Count de Fortemps and Lord Perseis. It is indeed rather strange, for this author could’ve sworn that mere months ago, the dear count was swearing he would never wed, on the pain of death, yet here he is, walking with the dashing new star of the court! 

As for Lord Perseis, he too has expressed little interest in settling down. His rise to fame is well underway, and as one is told, he will suffer no detours nor distractions on his path to becoming a name in the history of our great nation of Ishgard. Even he fell under the gentle charms of Count de Fortemps. The gentle kiss to his hand is apparently all that was required for a musician whose social graces have suffered greatly for his artistry to fall in love! 

And who knows! Maybe the next composition that graces the royal court will be a ballad for all those who will stand before Halone before long, prompted by the sincere desires of the heart, and hopefully not the desires of the flesh. How disgraceful would it be if the flesh took precedence! This author hopes it does not leave the ruins as tragic as those of the relations between Sir Waters, Lord Perseis and Lady Warde. Those were truly dark days for our blessed nation. Mayhaps joy will be found in the halls of Lord Leveilleur’s mansion tonight? This author is dying to know.

Viscountess Whispers

[rythasbrenelle]

Epilogue: Stray

(Note: Locke's long-suffering boss Rin belongs to @straycatte. There was a bit of fluff I wanted to do for the end of FFxiv Write but simply couldn't fit into the last prompt without making it a behemoth of a post, so I'm doing it here to scratch that itch.)

Locke hit the ground hard, feet disappearing out from under him just moments after they materialized. He closed his eyes against the dizzying light of the crystal looming over him. His stomach churned, his throat burned, and bitterness rolled across his tongue.

Snowdrop fared far better. She stood over him, white feathers fluffed and long neck swiveling, a challenge in her dark eyes as she met the gaze of anyone who looked toward her vulnerable companion. Most moved on. One man stood a polite distance away and waited. It wasn’t until Locke’s stomach settled enough that he could open his eyes, squinting under the sunlight of Radz-at-Han’s aetheryte plaza, and climbed to his feet that the tollkeeper approached.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking between Locke and Snowdrop. Locke shook his head wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak while his stomach was still performing acrobatics, and dug through his coin pouch. He produced a few coins — most of what was left in the bag — and handed them over. “Thank you, sir. In case you’re unaware, there’s a stall in the market that sells refreshments,” the tollkeeper said. He spoke hesitantly, caught between indulging his own helpful nature and removing himself from the presence of the sick Viera and his protective bird. “A few sips of amra lassi there will help settle your stomach.” Locke answered with a thumbs-up. He had no intention of spending more money than he needed to. The tollkeeper stepped away, and Locke looped the fingers of his good hand around Snowdrop’s reins. He led her away from the noise of Radz-at-Han’s nearby and ever-bustling market, taking the long way to the stables, where the city opened up and the smell of smoke and incense was thinnest. He filled his lungs with slow, deep breaths of fresh air as they walked. Now and then, he felt a twinge of pain across his thighs or his side, irritated by his stroll through the city, and a grimace flickered across his face. But it happened less often than it had a fortnight ago, when he’d awoken from his latest brush with death. He still wore bandages over the worst of his wounds, but a mix of the chirurgeon’s arcanima, mundane medicine, bedrest, and infrequent sips from his supply of potions had seen him through much of the healing process. Time would do the rest.

By the time Locke and Snowdrop arrived at the stables, the former’s stomach had settled but he was ready for a nap, and the latter was looking at the former as if she’d never been subject to such a terrible betrayal. Locke gave her a few consolatory pats and a fistful of greens as an apology. “Be good this time,” he murmured. “No running away. No damaging their stuff. Can’t afford it again. Be on the road soon, visit you every day till then. Promise.” “Warkwark.” Resigned disappointment was written all over the chocobo’s face, but she gave him an affectionate peck on the head anyroad, earning a smile from Locke. “Attagirl.” Locke passed Snowdrop’s reins to one of the grooms. After leaving him with an emphatic warning about the chocobo’s ornery nature and enough gil to cover a sennight of care for her, Locke set off for a cluster of buildings near the marketplace. With each careful, deliberate step, he became more and more aware of the lightness of his coin pouch. It was practically weightless. He could only partially attribute that to the wizard’s enchantment lightening the burdens of his bags. The rest was the result of food, lodgings, travel, and a fortnight of care from Aleport’s chirurgeon. He was probably returning with less money than he’d left with. Locke stepped into a crossroads near the center of the city, overlooked by a number of vibrant buildings, bright colors splashed across the stonework. Crowds of locals and travelers of all sorts came and went, from dancers and performers plying their crafts, to traders pushing their carts and couriers hurrying through the streets. Voices spoke, feet tapped, wheels squeaked. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and perfume and food. Civilization pressed in around Locke, crowds and sounds and smells all swallowing him like he belonged. He trudged through the throng and slipped through the front door of a familiar building, made his way across the lobby, and climbed the stairs to the building’s apex. At the top, he fished a key from his pack and let himself into the cramped little loft beyond a creaky door. The earthy scent of plants and soil rolled over him the moment the door swung open, setting him at ease in a way the city outside never managed. Locke plodded across the entryway and past the little greenhouse in a sideroom to his usual corner, where he dropped his pack and removed his glove and belts and weapons. The moment his swords were set aside and his firearm was on the table and he simply sat on the floor and breathed, two moons’ worth of exhaustion crashed atop him.

Mortal injuries avoided by movements measured in heartbeats. The ache of overused muscles. The fatigue of travel, mundane and Mist-ical alike. Sight headaches. They all hit him at once. He stretched his legs out, leaned his head back against the side of the couch, and let sunlight fall across him through the window, warming his itching skin. His eyes closed. “Locke?” His fingers twitched toward the nearest of his weapons even as his eyes were still fluttering open, vision blurry from sleep. Silver eyes peered down at him like moonlight from behind delicate-looking spectacles, pale face and dark scales illuminated by scattered candles and a small lamp. Locke let his hand fall back to his lap. “Hey, boss.” “Rin,” she corrected. He ignored it. “I’m back.” “I see that.” The idiot at the end was implied. Or so he assumed. Neither her face nor her voice ever seemed to give much away. “You were gone for a while. Did you run into trouble?” “Yeah. A bit.” Locke sat up a little straighter and stretched. He felt the pull of his still-healing injuries under his shirt and bandages and relaxed again, hand lifted up just enough to count his adventures on clawed fingers. “There were bandits. A wolf thing. A phantom knight. Another bandit. Oh, a swordsman from Tural, wouldn’t fight me though. A buncha ashkin. And a voidsent.”

“All of that in Thanalan?” Rin asked. She sat down and melted into the sofa, exhaustion aging her otherwise youthful features.

“Nah. Job took me up to Coerthas. Got this there though.” He produced a red crystal from his pocket, warmth bleeding into his skin, and set it in front of Rin. “It’s lucky.”

She plucked the fire crystal from the table with slender fingers and rolled it in her bandaged palm. There was the faintest hint of skepticism in the knit of her brow as she returned the crystal to the table.

“Looked for more work after. Wandered across most of Eorzea, fought all that stuff. Except the Turali fellow. Got these too.” Locke set his new backpack and matching six pouches in front of Rin. “Hold more stuff than they look like they can. Share two of the little ones with you if you want. Put plants in ‘em or something.”

Rin smiled, the expression ephemeral but bright nonetheless. “I’ll consider it. Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” He added the voidsent-killing knife to his pile of spoils. Even cracked, the diamond shimmered in the dimly lit loft, and the broken blade of silver shined. “And I got that. Broke when I killed the voidsent though. I think. Passed out afterward. Don’t know if it’s worth anything now.”

Rin looked less pleased at that, silver eyes sweeping past the obviously magical knife to look at Locke instead. “Wasn’t that just a bit too dangerous to do on your own?”

“Never said I was on my own,” he countered.

She watched him for a long, quiet moment, unimpressed. “Of course you were. You hiss and spit like a stray cat thrown into a bath if anyone gets in the way of your fights. You wouldn’t have accepted help.”

“Okay, sure, you’re right. But I wanted a magic sword,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Just got the bags instead though. And the knife, but that was more circumstance than reward. Oh, and, uh, I got this.”

Locke opened one of the pouches and poured a meager pile of gil onto the table, coins clicking and clattering.

“Does it cover rent?” he asked, a hopeful note in his voice. He knew damn well it didn’t.

Rin set slight fingers on the coins and slid them across the table into a new pile as she counted them out. When she finished, she glanced across the table. Her smile was small and quiet. “It’s plenty.”

“Really?” Locke leaned forward, tapping his claws against the coins as he counted them out himself. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”

“It’s plenty,” she repeated. “I’ve been busy here, collecting some plants and lending a hand to a couple alchemists. Rent’s covered for a while. In fact, I even made enough to get you something.”

She stood up and quickly trotted up the stairs to her loft within the loft. When she returned, she set a pearl on the table in front of Locke, not much larger than one of her fingernails.

He picked up the object and rolled it across his palm. It was perfectly smooth, save for a pair of prongs on one side. “An earring? Guess I can fit more.”

“It’s a linkpearl. Wear it on one of your ears, and the next time you wander off, I can use mine to keep in touch.” She motioned to an identical pearl tied to her right horn, worn on a thin string. “Interference happens occasionally, but barring that, we should be able to speak regardless of distance.”

“Oh! That’s useful.” Locke looked up from the pearl to flash a smile at Rin. “Thanks, boss. Tell you the truth, I was planning on getting back on the road before long. Soon as I can fight without opening all my cuts back up.”

“Already? We don’t need gil that badly,” she said. The ghost of a frown weighed her mouth down, slight and almost imperceptible, but present nonetheless. “Really, I’ve been doing well recently. You can relax for a little while, maybe take a few easy jobs around the city.”

Locke shook his head quickly. “No, no. Not for money. Well, not just for money. Heard there are plenty of great swordsmen in Tural. Wanna check it out for myself. Fight a few. Learn from them.”

“That sounds like it could be productive,” Rin admitted. She opened her mouth to say more, then stopped and stood up instead. She took several steps away, over to the nearby kitchen and the cabinets on the wall. She set about heating a kettle and preparing tea.

Locke watched, curiosity announced by the slight tilt of his head, but she kept her eyes forward. Silence filled the apartment.

Do not repeat my mistake.

“Never been to Tural either, have you?” Locke asked. Rin finally glanced back at him. “Could be nice to get out of Thavnair for a bit.”

She turned to lean against the counter. “I can’t just drop my work at a moment’s notice. Besides, we would need gil for food and lodging. Not to mention rent. The landlord will still want to be paid, whether we’re here or not.”

“Can pick up some jobs while you’re wrapping up your stuff,” Locke suggested. “Find something easy, use that time to heal. And I can hunt for food there if I really need to.”

“Okay. As long as you don’t reopen anything, that’s fine,” Rin said slowly, weighing her words. “But there’s also the matter of securing passage overseas. That’ll be a greater expense upfront than food or shelter.”

“Airship to Limsa Lominsa from here isn’t too bad. We can come up with the coin for it,” Locke said, gesturing toward the door and Radz-at-Han’s airships somewhere beyond it. “Then a boat from there. Know someone who knows someone. Said he can get us from Vylbrand to Tural cheap.”

The idea was winning her over, he was certain. She folded her arms and peered somewhere past him, silver eyes distant and narrowed in thought.

“Let’s say we spend all that gil to get there and pay for lodging and food," she finally said. "You can pick your fights and, if needed, make a bit of coin while we travel. As you said, you can also hunt to keep expenses down. You’ll have no shortage of things to do and ways to make the trip lucrative.

“But what am I to do?”

“That’s easy. Heard there’s plenty of strange plants for you to obsess over. Whole forest of ‘em.”

“Oh.” Rin went silent again. This time, however, she only needed a moment to contemplate the idea. “Well. Since you’ve put some thought into this, and you’re asking rather than wandering off on your own with hardly a word, I suppose I can join you this time."

The kettle whistled, calling for her to turn away and tend to it. But not before Locke saw the beginnings of an excited smile curl her lips.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #5: Levin Deals

Prompt: barbarous || Master Post || On AO3

--

“You are completely lacking manners,” Aymeric said, voice dry and flat. “Utterly bereft of decorum and good sense.”

Affronted, Ixion snorted.

“Don’t you sass me, sir.”

Behind him in her lounging chair, Synnove stifled a laugh. Aymeric pointed at her without looking. “And you stay out of this!”

Synnove stopped bothering trying to hide her amusement at that.

The yard and its garden—both the myriad flowers and the kitchen garden—were typically Synnove’s domain at her Cedarwood home, but over the years, Aymeric had developed an affinity for tending the kitchen garden. The simplicity of digging in the soil, trimming back the herbs in their pots, keeping the rows of vegetables free of weeds, even readying the empty beds for winter, were chores that soothed his mind when the work of governance set him on edge. His developed green thumb proved useful, too, now that Synnove was still in recovery from her injuries and horrific aethershock sustained from the Final Day; she simply couldn’t do most of the work of keeping her home in order until she regained more of her strength.

His lady was also horribly indulgent of the overgrown colt that constantly snuck through the skies all the way from Gyr Abania to eat his vegetables.

Aymeric used the same finger he had pointed at Synnove to jab Ixion’s muzzle. The great unicorn jerked his head back with another snort, and glared at him with one baleful red eye.

Aymeric had regularly faced the might of the Dravanian Horde his adult life, and now regularly butted heads with the worst sorts of nobles and politicians in Ishgard. A spoiled unicorn, living legend or not, was not going to cow him.

Amandina, perched between Ixion’s ears and with only her head visible above the fluff of his mane, chittered, He says your dam was a hamster and your sire smelt of elderberries. Papa, what’s a hamster?

(Synnove’s laughter turned to outright cackling.)

“My mama was a saint and my da a gentleman, and I’ll thank you to leave the questions of my parentage out of this discussion,” Aymeric bit out, crossing his arms.

Ixion whickered, dipping his head, and Amandina peeped, He says sorry!

(Trust one the carbunclets to figure out how to communicate with a god’s steed or a Mhachi experiment or whatever Ixion actually was via “sympathetic aetherial resonance” as Synnove had put it, and we’re both levin! as Amandina had said.)

Sighing, Aymeric dragged his hand down his face. He’d been at this for over half a bell now, since discovering Ixion rampaging among the tomatoes and beets and radishes. And Ixion had been decimating the kitchen garden on a semi-regular basis for a few years now. It was far too late to actually put a stop to this, but he wasn’t going to let Rhalgr’s steed rule the roost.

Therefore: compromise.

He set his gaze on Ixion again and said, firm, “I’ll set aside one row of vegetables of your choice if you leave the rest of the kitchen garden alone.”

Ixion flicked an ear and pawed the ground. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five.

Aymeric clucked his tongue and shook his head. “No. Two.”

Ixion pinned his ears back and flared his nostrils.

Aymeric raised an eyebrow.

Ixion’s ears slowly half-perked again, and he pawed at the ground. Once, twice, thrice, four times.

Aymeric shook his head once more. “Two, final offer.”

Ixion grumbled, tossing his head (Amandina squealed in delight), then turned his head to look him straight on with one eye. He raised his hoof up, set it down. And, after another moment of thought, pawed at the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Aymeric made a show of narrowing his eyes and tapping his chin, even as mentally he patted himself on the back. Three had been his initial thought, but the intelligent man did not let his opponent know his full hand in a negotiation. “Acceptable,” he finally said, and held out his hand.

Ixion tapped his palm with his horn. Deal sealed.

Synnove clapped behind him. Amandina cheered, then peeped as Ixion did a victorious piaffe as though he was the winner, Papa? What’s a hamster?

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[whump-on-a-string]

About:

29yo | He/Him | An Asexual Worm on a String | Artist | 18+ (NO DMs FROM MINORS PLEASE)

Asks with drawing prompts are welcome. DMs to discuss OCs are encouraged! I'm not a writer. I'm more of an artist.

Tags:

#Original - ALL Original Posts (Text, Images, etc.)

#OC - All OCs will be tagged with this.

#My Art - All art by me.

#Ask - Any replies to asks

OC TAGS:

#Dallan - Human servant blorbo. Whump shaped.

#Parish - Elf doctor. Friend shaped.

#Remus - Human "Mad Scientist". Villain shaped.

#Elliot - Vampire. Friend, mild antagonist, AND Whump shaped.

OCs:

Dallan Daymond | tag: #Dallan - Fantasy victorian servant in his early to mid-20s employed by Mr. Richard or Doctor Parish. Very polite but kind of a doormat. Only partially literate. Loves dogs. (frequent whumpee)

Alexander Parish | tag: #Parish - Elf, an older gentleman who practices medicine, a magic user. Friend of Mr. Richard, & Dallan. One of Dallan's employers. (Caretaker)

Remus | tag: #Remus - Doctor/Scientist with questionable ethics. Experiments on vampires, werewolves, etc. Anything inhuman he can get his hands on. (Whumper)

Fantasy Victorian setting with vampires, werewolves, elves, magic, and other fantastical elements. (Not historically accurate)

Elliot | tag: #Elliot - A half-elf technically killed by a vampire attack, surviving only by miraculously being turned into a vampire himself. Knows nothing about vampirism. Just winging it. Absolutely uses vampiric powers on humans though. Comical character but tragic. (Whumper AND whumpee)

Fave Whump Themes:

What this post said:

doorlampwrites: What if I want whump but like. Comfort. Comfort whump. No no not fluff, I need the zing!! I need the fascination of an awful relationship but like. Comforting. Yes they kidnapped them but like... put them in a comfy bed. With the big floofy sheets and weighted blankets. Yes... yes... the head pats... No it's controlling I swear. They kidnapped them this is whump I promise they’re scared (they’re just also so content and warm).

Whump but like comfy whump / carewhumper vibe?

Kidnapping. I like kidnapping whump.

Gilded Cage / Nice Whumpers

Mental/physical Age Regression (for comfort. CODDLE THEM!!!)

Hypnosis / Mind Control / Brainwashing / Altered States(?)

Poison / Sedation / etc.

Cartoon-tier hostage/used as bait shit? *chef kiss*

Vampires

Fave Settings:

Fantasy Fantasy 19th century D&D Settings FFXIV

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Comfortable

Post-3.3. Agi gives Estinein a compliment and catches him off guard. SFW. #7 on this list.

“I feel good when I’m with you.” Agnes whispered softly, her head on Estinien’s bare chest. After a long day at the beach and then dinner and shopping in Limsa, they had finally returned to the cottage to cuddle and sleep! Sleep is very important! We only have so much time here before we must return to Ishgard so Estinien can continue his recovery. I just…I don’t want it to end. Why can’t we stay here and simply be a happy couple in love?

Estinien’s breath hitched, and he stopped rubbing her back. “I-I’m glad.”

Oh gods, was that the wrong thing to say? Was it too much for him? Oh no, please don’t let me ruin this. Agnes stayed silent for what she thought were longest few minutes of her life, hearing and very much feeling her heart pounding. She heard a rumble in his throat, his hand returning to rubbing her back.

“How so?” He asked, his voice uncertain.

“It’s just a feeling, love. I can’t really explain it. It’s…it’s like a warmth that fills me and covers me like a blanket. That’s how you make me feel.” I sound so stupid. He’s going to tell me I’m a stupid, foolish woman and leave. He deserves so much better than me. He deserves so much…

“I make you feel that way?” His voice was no longer uncertain but full of wonder. “I surely cannot…”

Oh, you wonderful man! You don’t think I’m stupid at all. How could I have thought that? Oh right…because me. “You do. I feel like I’m the most beautiful, most loved woman in the world. That’s what you do to me.” Listening to his heartbeat, it began to slow after picking up after her initial statement. He was nervous. Poor love.

His other arm wrapped around her, and he gave her a tight squeeze. “Full glad am I that I make you feel such things.” Pressing a kiss to her head, he sighed. “Because you do the same for me.”

Agnes could feel her cheeks burning. “Oh?” She squeaked.

Estinien chuckled. “Aye. Tis a good feeling to love and be loved. Never thought it would happen for me…not til you…” He began to drift to sleep, still holding her, his body completely relaxed.

You deserve all the love in the world. I hope my whole heart is enough. Nay, my entire being. My love is yours, now and forever.

[missazurerose]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 26

Zip

“No time. I ordered MoogleDash delivery. It should be here in about a bell or so. We've got stuff to do.”

“We do?” 

“Yes. I went to go get you clothes for our trip to Solution 9. You need to try everything on so I can see if I need to fix anything. I grabbed a bunch of dye too. I know you'll probably want it blue.”

“Is that really going to take so long I cannot make dinner?” When she dumped an enormous pile of clothes on the couch, he raised an eyebrow. “Well…I suppose it might…is all this necessary?” 

“You can't go without at least a few outfits. And you'll stick out like a sore thumb if you wear your normal clothes. I'm sorry darling but you can't wear an alpine coat in that city.”

“Where did you even get all this?”

“Some of it's from the Wolves’ Den. I made a few things. I've had some of this since we stormed the Vanguard. I didn't think it would suit me but I kept it because it was neat.”

Yesterday was a bunch of feels, today is pretty casual, goofy fluff. Aymeric needs new clothes, okay? And don't ask about MoogleDash. Eorzea needs a food delivery service right? Later posting again because I thought of the gpose to go with it.

Pose info: Lap Lizard by Ryuuwu with a lot a lot of adjusting

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

desertwalkers--harbinger

(Prior to FFXIV 2024 Prompt #28: Deleterious)

------

"Fruit thief." At his brother's declaration, Augustine sighed. His head dropped down, and he sighed.

"Mat, are you sure you want to call a herald of the gods a fruit thief?"

"It is a fruit thief, it stole part of my lunch!" Mathye glowered at Sebastian, who was snickering. Augustine sighed again.

"Why you are still a priest is beyond me." He murmured, taking up hammer and nail once more. Quezty, the little bird that had adopted Riven was seemingly here to stay, and Augustine had wanted to surprise Riven with some perches for her new friend. Maybe a birdhouse too, if he could find out where it lurked around town.

"Maybe we can ask the Hhetsaro tribe about more specific food that species eats when they come back this way." Sebastian offered.

"That's if they do come by. The water situation's still not good." Mathye warned. "As it stands, the town'll be lucky to have enough to get through the next couple months."

"If nobody does any dumb shit, we should be alright." Augustine adjusted a piece of wood. "Same for food--it'll be tight, but fine. Kemakka's going to assign extra patrols on the town stores."

"Is he sure nobody's going to be trying to double-dip?" Sebastian asked.

"He was pretty graphic about what would happen if someone filched from the stores. Helped more that Chai-Nuzz okayed his request--anyone stealing is getting thrown out of town."

"Will we have enough to help anyone who comes in?" Mathye wondered.

"General store's stockpiling what they can, and I know the Saltlick and Cat's Eye are doing the same. Wouldn't be surprised if a few wives and husbands are piling up what extra flour they can get their hands on too." Augustine rocked back on his heels, checking over his work.

"I bought a few extra sacks." Sebastian admitted. "Was thinking about getting some more while the price was still good and I know I can keep them dry and pest-free." A flash of bright green and red fluttered into the room. With a chirrup, Quezty settled on the perch Augustine had just finished.

"Fruit thief."

"Mathye." Augustine facepalmed. Quezty seemed to fluff up into even more of an adorable ball of feathers.

"If you want fruit for the winter, I'd better get started on drying some out. Maybe trade for some jams and preservatives." Sebastian was certain one of the girls at the Saltlick was a deft hand at making such things, maybe he could place an order.

"Actually thinking about it, some jams and a few other sweet things wouldn't be remiss in some sort of care package." Augustine moved to clean up his workspace.

"For who?" Mathye asked.

"Kemakka wants to start checking up on those living out by the old mines nearby and the mountain passes. Let them know about what's going on and tell them they're welcome to winter in Stonewood."

"That's not gonna get any of them to budge." Mathye moved to set up a little water station on the perch for Quezty. "It's kind of him, but they're not going to take him up on it."

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #22 - Warning

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #22 - You Pick - Warning

Note: The Black Knights are based on a very cool breed of chicken called the 'Liege Fighter' if anyone is curious.

Briar's head jerked up from his gardening when he heard the sharp warning cry from Henri, his oldest rooster. The bird gave a loud squawk, wings flapping as he rushed toward the hens foraging in the grass. His older hens immediately echoed the call and shot across the grass, heading for the safety of the cottage and coop. They were no strangers to predators and knew what to do.

The ones that worried Briar most were his little silkies. Smaller, plumper, and short-legged in comparison, they were not near as quick and wary as his other hens. With their soft, almost fur-like feathers, they couldn't even fly for short stretches like the other hens. Vulnerable little golden balls of fluff, the silkies waddled as fast as they could after the others, giving their own chirps and squawks of distress.

The half-Elezen rose, sucking in a worried breath as he noticed the lean shape of a hawk circling nearby. He couldn't blame the predator for wanting to eat, but he didn't like it eating his chickens. Grabbing his staff, he started to jog toward the meadow, hoping his presence would be enough to dissuade the hawk.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the hawk dove in a quick flash, aiming for the slowest of the silkies. Briar sucked in a breath, starting to run, wishing he could just shout at the damned hawk. He made a noise of frustration, glancing around for something to toss that might spook it but not hurt his poor hen.

Briar hadn't needed to worry though. A streak of black feathers shot from the nearby bushes and crashed into the hawk just before its talons reached the hen. She still shrieked loudly, stubby wings flapping as she bolted as hard as she could toward the safety of the flock. The hawk gave its own cry of alarm as it crashed into the ground with a mass of striking wings and claws.

Briar slid to a stop, startled for a moment at the mass of angry birds rolling around on the ground before the dark form bounced away lithely. Gareth, one of his 'black knights' as they were affectionately known, gave a savage hiss of warning, long hackles rising as he mantled at the hawk. The hawk flailed to its feet, giving indignant hisses, threatening the rooster back. At least until another hiss joined the chorus and Gareth's brother, Kade, stalked out as well.

The two roosters were a different breed than his others. Reaching nearly three fulms tall and powerfully built, one could be forgiven for thinking they were small raptors. Long legs with huge feet and spurs along with sleek heads and short combs only made the two 'black knights' look more predatory as they hissed and mantled, moving closer to the hawk.

Now outnumbered, the hawk's bravado faltered. It hissed but started to back up. Kade lunged forward, striking out with both feet viciously, slamming into the hawk's chest. The hawk shrieked again, flailing wildly and scrambling away far enough to get into the air. As a final insult, Gareth lunged again, tearing out a tail feather before the hawk managed to get itself out of reach.

The two large black roosters watched the hawk until it was out of sight before ruffling their feathers and starting to groom, sauntering back toward the flock casually. They gave a few little chirruping calls to let the hens know it was safe, although none appeared until Henri had come out. The old rooster studied the skies intently before giving the all clear and the hens eased back out under the watchful gave of the roosters.

Briar breathed a sigh of relief, moving toward the flock and gently picking up the hen that had nearly been grabbed. Luckily, she was one of the sweeter girls and didn't mind being held. He examined her briefly, finding no worse than a tuft of feathers lost. Nodding, he set her back down and went into the shed, grabbing a handful of some treats, various little bits of dried fruits and such that the chickens loved.

He went to the Black Knights, who always lingered respectfully near the edges of the flock. It was strange in a way because normally roosters were rather aggressive toward each other. Briar suspected it was because they had grown up together and grown up when Henri was already an adult. Henri had established dominance when they were very small and kept it now, even though both Gareth and Kade were nearly twice his size. Or perhaps the two black roosters were fond of the older one. Briar was never sure.

As a reward, Briar knelt to gently toss some of the treats near the black roosters, reaching out to gently stroke Kade's back. They certainly weren't as cuddly as some of the hens, but they were respectful to the half-Elezen, even affectionate. Gareth came forward to delicately take a dried strawberry from Briar's hand.

Briar gave a silent laugh as Gareth moved toward the silkies, chirruping at them as he laid down the offering, encouraging them to eat first. They were very good roosters, as Henri had taught them, and all behaved gently with the hens and called them for treats. Gareth had a particular fondness for the silkies that Briar found charming. They ate a few bites themselves, but in short order, the roosters had summoned the hens for treats as well. Now more focused on food, the flock was relaxed and happily foraging again.

Henri came up to Briar, jumping with a few flaps to land on the half-Elezen's bent knee. He regarded Briar with bright yellow eyes, clucking at him. Briar smiled and gently scratched his neck as he liked, humming his approval. Even if Briar couldn't say it, he had warned the hens first and he was a very good boy, deserving of praise just as much as the Black Knights were.

Thanks to @calico-heart for giving me the idea for Briar to have 'Black Knights' forever ago. I just finally got around to writing it!