#ffxiv writting

[mahvaladara]

Day 3 - Self Destruction

(Who's late? Me. But I am having fun with these prompts. @angstober=

Setting: FFXIV

Synopsis: Khal is dealing with with the isolation of being hero. After coming to a compromise with anger and regret, grief and solitude suddenly feel twice as heavy, and he keeps doing reckless actions with no regard to himself in an attempt to keep the feelings contained. Its when he stopped, that Fray and Myste came to be, and he fears how grief and solitude will look like. His newest reckless action? To embark on the hunt of a great wyrm on his own. Everyone told him not to go in alone, but everyone was also busy. Things take a turn for the worse and he’s all alone, yet again.

It had been a collection of small things. He hid it well, behind his altruism, behind the smile, behind vanity and glam. Anyone who looked at him would say he was the embodiment of a hero, calm, resolute, and unwavering in his path.  

But those he cared for the most, had started to distance themselves from him. Or perhaps, it had been him, in his silence, that had pushed them away. At times he felt like a petulant child, a clingy one, chasing after the friends he held like a puppy desperate for attention. So he stopped chasing, he smiled, and he pretended everything was fine, so no one had to feel the crushing emptiness he felt inside of him. 

Before he knew it, he was down a spiral of self-destruction, taking on ever growing reckless quests and jobs, aiding all those who sought his help, regardless of how trivial. Enough to quiet the thoughts, the pain, the fear, the betrayal, the solitude. He didn’t want to think about how he felt inside. Regret and anger had been so easy to deal with, but grief and solitude were not. Depression was not. And last time he stopped, he had to deal with Fray and Myste and all the consequences they brought. Whitebrim was still recovering from the trashing Fray gave them. If his anger and his regret were so powerful, he feared how grief and solitude would be, when they felt like they could drown him.

If he could just let go of that Dark Knight soul. But He couldn’t, much like the grimoire of the rapier, he enjoyed the power that came with it. The strength. The elation of victory, of survival. waiting to be tipped by the wind of a tower. Inside he could feel like a castle of cards waiting to thumble, but outside, he was damn strong. At least he was damn strong. The claymore did the thinking for him. 

So, for the past months he was alone with his thoughts. 

Khal didn’t enjoy hunting dragons, and since the defeat of Nidhogg a year ago, and the months following the liberation of Doma and Gyr Abania, dragons, for the most part, had become a non issue. Last wyrm he fought was in the Azim Steppe, at the bequest of a hunter. But as Khal had stumbled upon a request to hunt a Great Wyrm, one of Nidhogg’s brood, who had been attacking not only the hunters of Tailfeather, but also causing issues to the dragons of Anix Trine. 

Someone messing with Vidofnir? Now that could not pass undealt with! Not on his watch, at least. No one was messing with the dragons of Anix Trine and he’d fight anyone who tried!

“You should not take one of Nidhogg’s brood on your own,” Vidofnir had warned him, as he went to visit the dragon in search of clues. “It is a dragon of formidable power.”

The same warning had been told by the hunters of Tailfeather. 

Don’t face it alone. 

Well, he would try not to. Maybe he could ask Makoto. When was the last time he asked Makoto for help? He knew he had been met with a “no, deal with it yourself-”. Oh yes, when he asked Makoto to help him escort a librarian to the Gubal Library. Of course that came in row with another series of rejections. 

He knew Makoto was also a Warrior of Light as sought for as Khal himself, but part of him had hoped he could count with the man more often. Yet again, since the events in Uldah, his ‘friendship’ with Makoto felt like one step forward two steps back. Khal seemed to have a penchant to every time he did something Makoto approved to be rightly followed by two other things Makoto would chastise him for. He felt like, after Uldah, after Font, and after Zenos, he had lost his friend and was doing a terrible job at getting him back.

After a quick teleportation spell, he found himself in the Scions Headquarters in Mor Dhona. He found the person he was looking for quickly, Makoto was in the corner of the tavern, map ontop of the table while he and Iswa discussed something.

“Oi,” Khal greeted.

“Hello Khalil!” Iswa said with a smile. Makoto simply gave him a passing acknowledgement. They had fought again this time about Zenos, over Khal having gone duel the man on his own, and nearly getting the worlds shortest haircut when he got soul yeeted into another reality. If it wasnt Estinien, the two of them would have died.

“Wait… weren’t you a bunny?” Khal blinked. “And a male?”

“I dipped on the fantasia vials again,” she winked.

“I was wondering if you guys are busy,” Khal started. “I needed your help to deal with a Great Wyrm who’s been-”

“No,” Makoto answered flatly.

Khal felt a slight pang of frustration and annoyance and he crossed his arms.

“A great wyrm, that’s not a foe you should face on your own,” Iswa pointed out.

“He did just fine with Zenos,” Makoto turned to his wife, looking over the map again.

“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” Khal sneered. “I could either wait for you and let Hien get killed, or I could go on my own.”

Makoto lifted a brow, giving him a cold glare that said everything he needed to know. Khal could read so much in his eyes “I don’t see why you need my help then.”

“Vidofnir warned me not to take the wyrm on alone,” Khal said. “There’s no one I trust more to have my back.”

Makoto pointed at the claymore, something that clearly said that he didn't need him to have his back, not when he forsook the Fortemps shield he so desperately tried to learn to wield. Makoto didn't much care what Khal did with his time, but Makoto has wasted hours teaching to wield the shield and he dropped it the moment he found the Dark Knight.

“Look, do you want to help or not?” Khal sighed, annoyed.

“Ignore sour pants there,” Iswa tried to lighten the mood. “We’d go, we really would, but we have something we need to deal with first. Is it urgent?”

“No more than a day ago,” Khal shrugged. “It fed, so it might be calm. But I wanted to deal with it before it decided to go for seconds.”

“Then it can wait. What we need to do is urgent, Khal,” Iswa explained.

As it was always. Either he had impeccable timing, or half of the “no”s weren’t that urgent.

“But don’t go alone! If it’s dangerous enough for Vidofnir to warn about it, it’s not something to take idly like some random hunt,” Iswa added. “Maybe Gal, or even Nor can help.”

“Thanks, know where I can find them?”

“I think they had headed to Gridania,” Iswa answered.

Khal waved and went on his way. Teleporting to Gridania, he came to find the other two in the Adventurers Guild. After explaining to them his quarry, again he was met with another no. The two apparently were trying to deal with Garlean stragglers bothering the Sylphs of Little Solace. They quickly suggested he tried asking Makoto. He didn’t bother to explain he already had.

He returned to Mor Dhona after that, checking the ‘party finder’ board for any groups of available adventurers who might help, but all he found were young rookies, with little experience under their belt. He was not about to drag them to face off a great wyrm. Maybe if they had bigger numbers, but even then, he feared some of them would fall in battle.

Gal and Nors words echoed in his head. Don’t go alone, make sure to take help. He was trying, stars, was he trying.

With a sigh, he turned around into the headquarters, maybe he could plead his case once more. He found Makoto and Iswa speaking with Krille, armed and ready to go.

“Oi, still here?” Iswa asked. 

“Yeah, came to see if I could persuade you guys to come along to fight a wyrm.”

There was a scoff from Makoto who crossed his arms impatiently waiting.

“Can’t do, Khal.”

“Where are you going?” Khal asked with honest curiosity. They were always running everywhere that he never knew, he never asked either. “Maybe I can help, and once it’s done, you help me in turn.”

Makoto shook his head.

“I don’t know when we’ll be done Khal,” she confessed. “Seems like that dragon of yours isn’t very urgent.”

“You can handle it,” Makoto stated matter of factly.

“Yes, just make sure to take help,” Iswa added.

“Yes, I will…”

He was right. Khal could handle it. Sometimes worse for wear, but he could handle it. He just felt damn lonely throughout all of it. With a sigh, he watched his friends go. He could always wait for them to return, but when would they?

He couldn’t wait, the longer he waited, the more he brooded. He worried the dragon would return to harm the ones of Anix Trine. He tried to push the worry of his mind, only to have it replaced by the thoughts he fought so much to hold back. Memories of Alisae grief and despair at her brother’s loss, how she herself was yanked from his grasp right in front of him, rightly after he promised to keep her safe. 

His loneliness in Doma and Gyr Abania. How every talk he had with Makoto seemed to escalate into an argument. How he never got to bury Haurchefant. How he couldnt sabe everyone. How it hurt inside, enough to change Fordolas' resolve. Reminding him of his helplessness and uselessness in the grand scheme of things. 

Without his friends he was of no use at all, truth be told, and all of his friends were either lost, or busy with their own things when they were not saving the world. And he was left being reminded of how little he truly had, that he was truly alone. He could hide his despair behind all the vanity and all the confidence he wanted, but he truth, he was nothing but glam. 

“I’m not getting anywhere,” Khal got up frustrated. 

He wouldn’t wait for anyone. He’d face this wyrm on his own. They told him to handle it, they trusted him to handle it. And at least while he fought, he didn’t have time to dwell on stupid musings. 

Finding the Wyrm was easy. The beast had taken up residence in the scalding heats of Churning Mysts. Made a nest right untop a high cliff, overseeing both of it’s prey, the smaller and younger dragons of Hraesvelgr’s brood, the Vath and the hunters of Tailfeather. The place was scattered with remains of it’s prey, showing how busy it had been, but right now, it seemed dormant, as Khal made his way in the late night.

But the moment he got closer, the wyrm stirred, locating the intruder into it’s claimed territory. 

“Well, so much for descrition,” Khal chuckled, pulling on the claymore. “Let’s dance.”

He pointed the claymore at the beast, as he threw a Flood of Darkness in a straight line to pull it from its nest and into the battlefield, casting shadow wall on himself to mitigate the upcoming attacks, as he strid forward in a gust of darkness, striking the beast quickly with a hard slash, and cast Salted Earth.

The two battled for how long Khal wasn’t sure. Rotating through all the protective spells he knew, Khal tried his best to avoid the unslaught of attacks from the beast. Khal fought with all his might, his instincts guiding him as he dodged flames and retaliated with strikes of blade and spell.

His mind was clear and focused on his opponent. Silent. Empty. Not one thought rushing through it other than what skill to use, what ward to protect himself with, where to strike next. 

Dodge, duck, ward, strike slash, slay. He did not need a shield to protect himself with, his magic and his blade was enough. 

Perhaps they overestimated his opponent, or perhaps they underestimated him. And he needed more. More battles like this, endless, overbearing, taking every inch of his concentration. And he looked damn good fighting, he laughed. He looked capable,  strong, put together.

Flames licked the air as the creature roared, its scales glimmering ominously in the moonlight. The wyrm's attacks, once fierce and overwhelming, now seemed predictable. He grinned, his confidence rising. This was it, he was handling it. He was winning.

With one final surge, Khal leapt into the air, aiming for the wyrm’s exposed neck, his claymore gleaming in the moonlight. The beast shrieked as the blade bit into its scales, but Khal underestimated its endurance. The wyrm's tail lashed out in retaliation, slamming into him, sending him hurtling through the air. Khal crashed into the ground with a sickening thud, his breath knocked from his lungs. Pain shot through his body as he tried to push himself up, only to find blood soaking his clothes. His side had been torn open, deep and severe.

Fuck! He had messed up! He had messed up! He had gone complacent. 

Gasping, Khal forced himself to his feet, but his legs wobbled beneath him. Adrenaline shot into his very veins, his ears ringing. Blood poured from the gash, as he tried to locate his sword. The wyrm's roar echoed in his ears, its fiery breath lighting up the sky. 

“Okay, I hate this one, but be it,” he struggled. 

Khal cast Living Dead with his remaining energy, letting the wyrm swat him away like a fly. He needed to die, for the spell to work. He felt an intense chill freeze his inside, as though his body was teetering on the edge between life and death, like standing at the precipice of a deep abyss, waiting for the wind to push him over. The air around felt heavy and cold, as if something unnatural was coiling within his chest.

It was an addicting sensation, the way the world seemed to disconnect,  sounds becoming distant and muffled. His vision darkened around the edges, tunneling on his quarry, as he felt hollow from inside his very being, weightless and empty. He felt neither dead or alive. Each breath growing shallow and cold.

He charged at the dying wyrm, throwing Unmend, to call back its attention that his opponent was still standing. With each strike, each spell that hit true, he felt a jolt of energy, pulsing within him, as if trying to return him from the brink of death.

“It won’t be enough,” he realized. If he could not heal completely from fighting the wyrm, the spell would strike him down.

The wyrm roared again, and Khal barely parried its attack, his blade shaking under the strain, he saw the way the metal started to crack, and he pulled it, managing to strike it through the wyrm’s left eye. The beast howled and it took the chance to strike it again. But as the final blow landed, the wyrm fell, crashing to the ground with a thunderous thud. 

He felt the spell run out, he hadn’t been able to undo all the damage, and like a debt waiting to be paid, he felt the rush of pain. 

Khal gasped and fell to his knees, a sharp pain shot through him. The gash in his side bled, his movements sluggish and strained. His vision swam, darkness tugging at the edges. Panting heavily, his grip on his sword loose, his chest heaved with ragged breaths, the cold grip of death lingering on his skin, his body trembling from the damage he hadn’t been able to heal in time. 

He looked down at the damage. He’d live, he was sure, but that would be a painful walk back to Anix Trine. He had survived, adrenaline subsiding, his mind silent and elated from the fight, like the aftermath of a high. 

Stars, had that fight been a glorious close call. He adored this feeling of victory, even if it was a close call. Even if a damn close one. He could have died. But his mind felt empty, drowned in elation and pain. It was all he could focus on right now.

He could have been tipped by the wind right off the tower. Maybe he would fly. He felt light enough.

As he slowly gathered his bearings, his hands instinctively reached for his side, pressing down on the wound. The blood continued to seep between his fingers. He exhaled slowly, staring at the night sky above him. As his rationality came back to him, he chuckled. His own recklessness had cost him dearly. That would leave a scar. But he wasn't sure how much longer he could last like this. 

He couldn’t keep chasing quest after quest seeking this clarity. One of these days Living Dead wouldn't heal enough, and the abyss would claim its bounty. One of these days, he wouldn’t even have time to cast it.

One less Warrior of Light to help Eorzea. What made him more worthy than any of the others? They all had died and failed. He was nothing but glam.

Khal struggled to get up, shaking his head. Hand on his side.

“Let’s get this fixed… I’m sure someone somewhere has something to keep my mind too occupied to waste time with these musings.”

Hopefully he could get it healed before Makoto and Iswa returned. They’d never let him hear the end of this. He only did what they told him. He handled it, alone, again.

Stars, he wished one of them had come with him. He wouldn’t be in this much pain if they did.

[starvoidsailor]

One day I will be able to find someone willing to beta read my WoL×Nero fanfics and comment on them with more than mild disinterest and asking me to write some other ship instead.

[crownonacat]

Current wip of Red, Ide and Clow; from their beginnings to their endings or what it feels like happens to them over the course of the journey anyway ^^

[ezra-bright-xiv]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Zenos yae Galvus, Fandaniel | Amon (Final Fantasy XIV), Artoirel de Fortemps Additional Tags: Bad Ending, Murder, Suicide, mentally unstable zenos, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), implied sexual relationship, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Bodyswap, Heartbreak, intentional cruelty, Mental Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Jealousy, Angst, Quest: In From The Cold (Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker), no beta we die like bunnies Series: Part 1 of The Ezraverse Summary:

All Zenos wants is to have the Teacher and Friend back that he had lost when he was 8 years old. But since the Warrior of Light seems so determined to never return to him, Zenos decides that making the Viera want to fight him is the second best option. Determined to stoke the WoL's hate Zenos switches their body to rampage through the Eorzean camp. But fate had other plans as instead he runs into one single Elezen. If he hurt this man, surely the Warrior of Light had no other choice than to chase him to the ends of the world in revenge.

How wrong he was.

Plays during the Endwalker Quest: In from the cold. Zenos PoV in which he does not make it to the camp but instead runs into Artoirel out in the woods.

[helladventurers]

Holy fuck

Patch 4.1 also made me hate nanamo

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 11 Surrogate

A Desertwalkers Weird West AU Story (I did not intend to write any of the FC AUs, but such things happen. How the Strikers' perpetual helpfulness lands them a new home...)

“Now hold on just a minute,” Zaine said, staring at the Landsguard officer. The doppro rider stared back, impatience evident. “This was supposed to be a temporary position.”

“I am simply the messenger,” the officer replied with a shrug of his mottled shoulders. “Take it up with the city if you wish to change the terms of the contract.”

Zaine stared down at the paper before him. He had sort of fallen into helping Stonewood’s judiciary with the claims office, as he was a decent mediator, able to make friends with both locals and those coming to the plains of Xak Tural for work in the ceruleum refineries and railway expansion. There were land disputes, and water disputes, and animal issues, and crop concerns...

But he was just here for the interim. They would find a real officer from Tuliyollal to take over, and Zaine and his sister could move on, exploring the land as they had planned. Once things settled down a bit for Stonewood and the friends they had made here.

The writ from the city, delivered by the increasingly impatient Landsguard officer, not only confirmed Zaine permanently for the role, but expanded the responsibilities—as someone dealing with the local property issues would also be responsible for estate settlement and the probate of wills.

“I might have to,” Zaine said, a headache coming on. “I didn’t really think they would hire an immigrant drifter into such a position.”

Then again, he and Aeryn had stood up to Baelsar and his aggressive expansion on behalf of this town and neighboring communities. That probably had a chunk to do with it.

The officer chuckled. “What you get for being good at it,” he said. “And Tuliyollal is more concerned with what one chooses to do, than where one is from. We could not have formed our nation otherwise.”

“Suppose that’s true,” Zaine muttered. “All right, I won’t take more of your time. I’d best speak to my sister and see what we do from here.”

“Great. Have a good day,” the officer said, leaving before Zaine could get his own farewell in.

Well. All right then.

He closed up his office for the day (and it really was his office now, wasn’t it?) and stepped out into the hot, dusty street. He thought of getting a drink, thought better of it, and continued on to the schoolhouse, where Aeryn had been helping out.

Aeryn was outside, class apparently dismissed for the day. She was talking to one of the adolescent students, a petite redhead she seemed fond of. Or maybe it was the girl’s uncle, a smarmy, fair-haired, gunblade-using bodyguard for the local coven, and sometimes bouncer for the Cat’s Eye Cabaret. Normally Aeryn didn’t notice anyone who noticed her. But there was...something...in the way her and the bodyguard interacted that made Zaine’s brotherly hackles rise.

His sister saw him coming now, smiling and waving cheerfully, her student following suit. Nice girl, that Ryne. Her mum was a lovely blonde mining foreman, often busy, hence the girl spending more time with her uncle. There was some connection to the cabaret owner, too. Zaine hadn’t thought he needed to worry too deeply about complicated family dynamics around here.

Maybe he would have to start.

Ryne stayed long enough to greet him before skipping off to meet with her friends, taking the hand of a dark-haired gal as the youths rushed off. Aeryn let out a deep breath. “I have something to talk to you about,” she said with no preamble.

“I have something to talk to you about,” Zaine answered, walking with her toward the rooms they were renting. “You go first.”

“The superintendent rode out today,” she said. “They want to extend my contract.”

Zaine frowned. “Thought this teaching gig was a temporary thing?”

“I thought so too, but they’re having trouble finding anyone qualified willing to come out here, and I’m apparently doing well enough for the board and the parents both. And the children are all so good…”

“And you want to stay,” Zaine said.

“I’ve thought about it,” Aeryn admitted. “It still may not be forever, but...for awhile?” She looked over at him.

“Well,” he said. “That could work. Considering my interim position isn’t so interim now.”

“Were you fired?”

“What? No! Why is that your first assumption?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve only known you my whole life.”

“Whatever, smartypants. It’s the opposite actually. They made my role permanent.”

Aeryn hugged him, grinning. “This is a good thing, right?”

He hugged her back. “I mean, yeah. I didn’t really expect it so it caught me off guard.”

“This is what you get for standing up to Baelsar.”

“I guess. You did too, though, and that might have convinced the board to keep you around.”

She shrugged. “I helped a little. You did most of it.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t ever seem to convince her that she was, possibly, more instrumental to such actions than himself. She would continue to blow it off until getting angry if pushed, so he let her change the subject.

“If we’re staying, we need somewhere to live besides a couple rented rooms.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “Funnily enough, I am aware of available land around here. There’s a couple acres just outside town that I think between the two of use we could afford and manage, with our other work.”

“When you say a couple—”

“Literally two.”

She considered that, then nodded. “It’d be nice to have our own place. Weird, maybe, but nice.”

They stopped at the same time and looked at one another. Zaine began to smile, which made Aeryn smile in return.

“All right,” he said. “I guess we’re staying.”

[windup-dragoon]

FFXIV Write 2023

Prompt - Noisome Adjective - Having an extremely offensive smell

Content Warning - Mentions of death, gore, violence, and war

Word Count - 1,368

Divine Dragon AU Kiri is a traveling mercenary, defending the countryside from roaming clusters of corrupted monstrosities created for war. Her travel companions include a dragon of divinity turned man, and a goose (duck?) that neither had the courage to eat.

It's the noisome stench of rot that fills her lungs as she gasps for air. Her hands claw and scrape at anything tangible, anything physically there to pull her back into reality. But only wet masses fall away beneath her fingernails, sloughing decaying flesh with ribbons of scarlet viscera. She chokes on vomit at the sight, her mind frantically putting pieces together of the scenery around her.

A field as black as pitch and corpse mounds breathing ash and embers into the smoke hazed sky. Booming sounds echoed in the distance like great thunder that shook the very ground she laid upon. Noise. So much noise. A ringing in her ears that made her head throb. But the sound of the flies were louder yet. Buzzing busily at her ears, gorging themselves upon the garish battlefield.

She squeezed shut her eyes, reaching out desperately for a solid hold to heave herself up with, dreading the thought of who or what body part acted as her leverage. Amidst the chaos of war still raging she could hear footfalls nearby. Lumbering and kicking aside mangled corpses as if wading through fresh snow. She dared only steal a glance as she roused, sucking in putrid air once more at the grotesque sight.

Creatures.

Not quite animal but certainly not man, roaming skeletal bodies with too many limbs and white vacant eyes. In their great maws lined with too many teeth, they gnashed at flesh. Bones splintered and cracked between jaws while they slurped marrow.

Bile rose in the back of her throat. She pitched forward and coughed out the contents of her stomach; ichor splattered her hands and dribbled down her chin.

The monstrosities nearby of course swiveled at the sound, their empty dead eyes focused on the survivor amongst the corpses. With an ear shattering scream they lurched toward her, wielding now weapons made of their own gnarled bones.

Her heart pounded in her ears; a rabbit fearing being caught by the predators now leaping over mounds to grab her. Despite the pain in her broken body, she hurled herself to her feet, kicking away wet leather armor and gore shedding from the decaying masses. A desperate glance back showed more creatures had gathered for the hunt, a few almost merging together to form a sentient mass of rotten flesh and mangled bone.

Another crackling boom rang out around her, shaking the very ground beneath her. She turned again and stopped mid stride. Even the beasts had stopped to look up to the churning skies.

She felt deafened as she watched the sky being torn open, a shock of magicks rippling through the damp air. A white blinding light bathed the silent field before a sigil writ with gold appeared. From it's center was another flash of blinding light; a falling star that burned away everything.

----

Panic woke her from her restless dreaming, heart racing at a rabbits pace in her ears. She swallowed a gulp of cold air and blinked away the burning edges of her nightmare. It had been a beautiful evening. The camp fire had died to little more than embers spitting. Overhead was a sea of stars, a veil of jewels woven delicately by unseen hands. Crickets chirped in the woods around her, everything at peace for the evening.

Yet she could still taste it. The stench of rot and decay, the smoke and ash of war.

She reached for her canteen to drown away the memories but was met with only the remaining few drops of cool water. Of course she had forgotten to refill it before bed. Just her luck.

It was only then as she cast aside her bed roll and rose to her feet did she notice her companions belongings neatly set aside with no one to be seen. Weary still from sleep she gave it little thought before marching down to the stream they had camped beside.

Nightmares of that day were frequently revisited against her best efforts. It always felt as if she had been thrown back into the fray, that any moment she would realize that the brisk night air was the dream and her reality was nothing more than viscera and rot. The mere thought of it made her stomach twist.

At the shoreline the stream babbled gently into the night. A melody that soothed the ache in her head. She dipped her canteen in first, the rush of water at her fingertips giving her a chill down her spine. Once the pouch was full to the brim, she kicked off her boots and took careful strides into the crystal waters.

"Come to bathe?" A voice called from the reeds along the way.

Kiri lifted her chin, spying a familiar white goose lazily floating along the streams current. "No," she replied, reaching out to pat the goose as it went by. "Just needed water."

Mismatched eyes fought against the darkness to make out the silhouette of her traveling companion. The reeds hushed as his body moved through them, the water spluttering against him. His thick hair had been let loose from its tie and hung down over his shoulders, the ends curling slightly with still dripping water. In the starlight she could see the pearlescent tones on his skin, beads of river water looking like glittering diamonds against it.

She felt warm seeing him this way but quickly turned her focus to a gathering of fireflies opposite him. "Could've stayed in the brush, ya'know."

The gentle rumble of a laugh escaped him. "And miss the look on your face?"

Kiri rolled her eyes. "What if someone sees ya'?" Vaguely she gestured to him, referring to the long dragon tail he was currently using to spin the goose around as it drifted by.

"I have trousers on." He raised his shoulders, feigning innocence. After a moment he dove under the water, becoming a moonlight glimmer of a silhouette beneath the ripples.

Hien reappeared before her, like a fish contemplating the hook before breaking the surface. His hair blended seamlessly into the dark waters but the rest of him still held an almost unworldly shimmer in the darkness.

"I know that expression. Another nightmare.”

A sigh on her lips gave away the answer. Kiri placed a hand on his forehead, trying desperately to dunk him. "And what of it? | ain't in the mood to be lectured by an exhibitionist."

Struggle all she might against him, Hien refused to sink back down. Instead he rose to his full height, taking the hand on his forehead and holding it between his clawed fingers carefully. With his free hand, he gestured to the pants that were slipping off his hips.

"A lecture wouldn't help, but perhaps a listening ear will."

Instead of an answer, Kiri marveled at the warmth of his hand holding hers. She hadn't truly realized how brisk the night had become until now. Nor had she thought a dragon would be so soft and warm. Absently her fingertips brushed along the lines of his palms, a fate written on flesh that she couldn't decipher.

A light honk from their goose companion drew her back, her hand slipping between his fingers to fall at her side. Her mouth felt dry as she recalled the noisome vapors that plagued her.

How do you tell divinity the horrors of war? That even if she endured amnesia, her body would always remember. The sound of bone breaking beneath your feet. Sinew and entrails stuck underneath your nails. The taste of blood and ash on your tongue. Her body would never forget what she had endured.

The same war that brought low a divine dragon like a falling star. Captured him as if a firefly in a jar to be admired until it died of suffocation. But while he had freed himself of his tormentors, she could never escape, doomed to suffocate alone in her own jar.

Kiri forced herself to smile, brushing aside starlight hair and averting her eyes. "I'll head back first. Get the fire goin’ again and all."

"Kiri…"

His voice trailed, replaced by the quiet babbling of the stream and all the creatures of the night humming a chorus.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #10: [INDIGO ABRASAX]

Prompt: reactivation (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: This idea originated before the 6.4 PLL that announced Certain Specific Scholar Updates. Yoshi-P, I demand royalties along with the use of my twenty-year old internet handle as the abbreviation for your new expansion.

--

Synnove stared down at the soulstone on her desk; the dark blue stone was cut in such a way that what little light refracted through it drew the eye to the Scholar’s bespectacled emblem carved into its surface. She poked at it gently and the sonorous bzzz of unaspected aether brushed against her mind. Soulstones didn’t usually have unaspected aether unless they were blank, waiting for memory and experience to fill them.

This one was weird.

“This one is weird,” she said aloud. “Not that I don’t mind a mystery, but Surito is sending this along because…?”

“It’s something about the fairy,” Halulu said. “This one is from the most recent cache of soulstones the recovery teams have located in the Palace, and it’s the only one Surito can’t place to its original owner at the time of Nym’s fall. All the others, if he couldn’t recognize the aetherial signature, the fairy within responded at least long enough to identify herself and her Scholar.”

“But this one stayed silent,” Mhaslona said, not a question after Halulu’s explanation. Synnove’s old advisor lounged in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, turned to the side to allow her to stretch her prosthetic leg out.

Halulu nodded and said, “And since Synnove is Eorzea’s resident strange summons expert…”

“You rewrite the laws of aetherology once and everyone expects you to walk on water,” Synnove grumbled without any heat. Halulu and Mhaslona both snickered at her. “All right, I’ll see if she’ll say hello to me.”

She pushed back from her desk and stood, picking up the soulstone in the same motion, and walked to the center of her office. Those first summonings of Tyr and Ivar had taught her never summon a damn thing near her desk ever again. The Gate quartermaster would likely refuse her requisition for another ironwood desk, especially one that would need hauling all the way up the northeast tower.

Synnove cupped her hands together, the left under the right, with the soulstone nestled in the center of her palm. She allowed her eyes to unfocus as she reached out with her aether to nudge the soulstone. In her mind, it hummed acknowledgment, but did nothing else.

The logic for a fairy wasn’t one with which she was intimately familiar, but her perfect memory could recall it regardless and Synnove held it in her mind as she drew on her aether—and frowned.

The soulstone refused to respond.

Only faintly conscious of her head tilting in puzzlement, Synnove mentally prodded at the soulstone again. Scholar soulstones were locked with the fairy logic; summon the fairy and the bearer could begin to attune to the soulstone. And it wasn’t a mystery lock, either, the logic was practically writ into the soulstone’s aether, one just needed to ‘fill’ it and—

—unless it wasn’t a fairy.

Synnove mentally threw out the fairy logic and plunged into the heady waters of the soulstone. Yes, there was the most basic of geometries used in summoning at its heart, pulsing and strong, but the way it branched out into the greater logic didn’t match the ones Scholars used for their fairies. She followed the equations and lines spiraling out from the core, mentally tracing out the shape of the summon that guarded the soulstone’s heart.

…This was familiar.

This was very, very familiar.

Without intention, without even having finished tracing this not very Scholarly logic because it wasn’t a logic at all, it was an array, Synnove filled in the blanks, and aether sang out in her office.

Synnove looked down.

A bright blue carbuncle blinked up at her.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a sound not unlike that of an Allagan node—though oddly feminine in its neutrality—rang out in her mind.

[>>776SKK900NLS0000 GLORIOUS DAWN NRM-COM/IPMA: ASSETS//CORE//IMPERATIVE IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER Tactical morality reset from EMERALD EXIGENT. SECURITY STATE is ADAMANTOISE. LUCIFERON is INACTIVE and MIDNIGHT. Primary command structure defragment commence on mark. Evocation matrix INDIGO ABRASAX reactivation success. Format moral structures for KYRIA TRACE. STOP STOP STOP 776SKK900NLS0000]

With the way Mhaslona and Halulu were excitedly chattering behind her, Synnove knew she was the only one who had heard that. She suspected she wasn’t supposed to have heard that.

And then the carbuncle opened her mouth, and in the same voice said:

[Greetings, New User! I am the Intelligent Personal Obligant and Medical Operative for Emergency Applications! You may call me Ipomoea for convenience. Please specify the nature of your emergency for prompt service.]

Dead silence in her office.

“Um,” Synnove said intelligently.

“Is,” Halulu whispered, “is she talking? As in, open mouth, sound comes out talking?”

“More like an orchestrion rather than talking,” Mhaslona said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t like that. Not one bit.”

--

“So,” Synnove said, filling the final shot glass with whiskey and keeping it for herself, “best I can tell, the soulstone was carved from a carbuncle-quality focus gem.”

Surito Carito, Setoto Seto, and Alka Zolka were huddled around her desk with herself, Halulu, and Mhaslona, each with a shot glass in front of them. The bottle of Synnove’s best whiskey was not as full as it had been half a bell ago.

Surito sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “I remember her,” he said. “Her summoner—though perhaps better to say her programmer—was the college’s Allag expert, Vatete Vate. And carbuncles weren’t a popular choice for familiars; fairy logic was the preference, since it wasn’t reliant on gemstones infused with living aether.”

“We were isolated from most of Aldenard because of Mhach and Amdapor’s warring over the centuries,” Setoto said, shaking her head. “By the time of the War of the Magi, we hadn’t had a reliable gemstone trade in generations, it was why the fairy logic was developed at all.”

Mhaslona sucked on her teeth. “Where the fuck did Vatete even get the Allag tech? Based on what Synnove heard, it sounds like she reverse-engineered one of their command nodes into a carbuncle array.”

The two tonberries and one former tonberry all shrugged.

“Best we can do at the moment is ask around the Palace,” Surito said, raising his whiskey glass to sip from it. “Vatete isn’t among the tonberries, and she kept to herself much of the time, but she’d ramble to anyone who showed a lick of interest, so it’s possible, though not probable, that she may have let slip something without either she or her audience realizing the import.”

Synnove rested her cheek on her fist and sighed, then said over her shoulder, “How’s that database update coming along, honey?”

[Azys Lla terminal connection is sporadic, update is only seventeen percent complete.] Ipomeoa had, thankfully, switched to an aetheric harmonic upon request, although it still sounded vaguely artificial. [Prioritization algorithms are still sorting data. WORLD STATE: HYDAELYN set to UNBOUND.]

“…I don’t want to know what that means,” Alka Zolka said wearily. “I don’t think I have the clearance to know what that means.”

“You do now,” Synnove grumbled, and tossed back her whiskey in one gulp.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[starsandauras]

Entry 26: Zip

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 26: Zip

Slowly Cred snuck up on his targets, using all the skills that his baba had taught him. They were distracted, which helped quite a bit, since he was still four years old and not the best sneaker. But he would get better!

He remembered what happened the last time he tried to pounce someone and kept his tail still, only shifting his weight on his feet, back and forth. And then…

“Tag!” he cheered, tapping Alisaie and Alphinaud’s arms, giggling all the while.

Both twins startled and spun around to look at him, eyes wide for a moment before their faces softened into a smile. He giggled again before turning and running away. “Get back here!” called Alisaie, waiting a few moments before following after him, with Alphinaud following a moment after that.

It was only fair, with him being so small and the two of them starting to hit their growth spurts (finally).

The three of them darted around the Leveilleur manor’s yard, Cred even taking a moment to tag in Ryne when he saw her and Gaia settled in the gazebo in the back. Gaia simply folded her arms on the railing and watched as two adults and one teenager chased a four year old around. The air was filled with the laughter of all four of them, and surely it carried inside, where the house staff and Ameliance could hear.

Eventually Alisaie pulled ahead of her brother and niece, and scooped up her nephew, the both of them laughing as they tumbled to the ground. “Auntie Saie!” he cheered, wrapping his arms around her as much as little arms could reach.

“Cred!” she cheered in response, holding him close and resting her cheek on his head. She inhaled deeply, and shook slightly on the exhale. “I love you,” she whispered, “very much.”

Cred laughed brightly. “I love you too!” When Alisaie’s breath shuddered again and she didn’t let him go, his smile dipped slightly. “Auntie Saie?”

“Don’t ever forget that,” she whispered firmly. “I will always love you.”

Confused, the small boy shifted until he could pat her cheek. “Okay?” he asked, and looked up as Alphinaud slowly approached. “Uncle A’fino?”

He took one look at his sister before sighing and kneeling down next to them, placing a hand on her back. “Alisaie,” he murmured, saying so much in just her name, just like Cred’s Mama and Uncle Li Li would do.

Alisaie’s breath shuddered again and she nodded, one arm letting go of Cred, only to pull Alphinaud into the hug as well. Cred squirmed again, so he could face Alphinaud, holding a hand out. “Uncle A’fino shake?” he asked, wide eyed.

Alphinaud sighed and shook his head. “Not this time, Cred,” he murmured. “Just this once, I think I’d rather a hug.”

And while he didn’t understand this change in routine, because his uncle did not like hugs, he knew it must be important, so he let go of his aunt to hug Alphinaud instead. “Hugs,” he murmured, smiling a little when Alphinaud wrapped his free arm around him.

“Alphinaud?”

“Hm?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Alisaie started, voice both wobbly and firm, “I love you too.”

Alphinaud breathed out a fond sound before leaning his head against his sister’s. “I love you too, dear sister,” he replied.

A moment later Ryne and Gaia joined them, Ryne instantly getting pulled into the hug as well, and Gaia resting her hand on Ryne’s shoulder. It was nice, being the middle of a big hug like that!

(After a few minutes of silence, Ameliance looked out the window, concern writ upon her brow, only to smile as she caught sight of the cuddle pile. She closed the window and asked the butler to ensure the groundskeeping staff left them alone for a time.)

[dragongirlbunny]

Ffxiv blog???

@kharia-adarkim ! i've posted a few screenshots and writting snippets over there and its also where i rb most ff14 related posts to

[mahvaladara]

Day 2 - Countdown

“Cid, I think it’s counting down to something.”

(yes, one day late. Sue me.)

Setting: FFXIV, Khalil is a Warrior of Light. Makoto is by @inouvasplace and is also a WoL.

lah dem, “passage of time”. The closest word to countdown in the language Drahniir. Drahniir do not perceive time the way the species of men do, but do have words for it. When time is passing, they say “lah dem”, which also mean ephemerity of time.

“Cid, I think it’s counting down to something.”

“What do you mean counting down?” The linkpearl whirled to life.

“I’m pretty sure these symbols are numbers, countdowns and allagan infrastructures rarely mean anything good.”

“Maybe it’s nothing serious.”

“Cid, It’s a bloody countdown!”

Famous last words, he thought, recalling the last conversation he had with Cid. A countdown. Of course it was a countdown for pain, for something to whirl to life and cave his chest in in one blow. To show him the ephemerality of time. How little it counted when one’s time was over.

Yes, he won, but he could barely move and even less breathe. He felt like he was drowning in his own blood. 

So much for being a ‘tank’. If he survived this, Makoto would never let him hear the last of this.

This was supposed to be a relatively easy job. He had gone through this dungeon before, twice now. Both times at behest of the Ironworks, first time a request from Wedge, that earned him the rather deadly Gilly (how he called his companion node, whom he had a habit to use as a spiked throwing weapon by kicking it at enemies’ faces), and the second at request of Philipe, a Hyur from the Brume. 

Both times he had cleared the Allagan Museum of its many technological defenses and chimerical abominations. He had hoped to find the place empty, but once more it appeared to have been raided by sky pirates, if the gear on the dead he found was anything to go by. Why they insisted to dwell in the bowels of allagan monstrosities was besides him.

Not that he was one to speak. Here he was on his own with nothing but a companion node that he could use like a spiked cannonball, a large sword on his back, the many spells on his grimoire, enough spite to move a mountain, and enough vanity to have zero sense to wear proper armor.

Maybe if he survived this he’d start using something more than chainmail and hard leather. He scoffed at the thought.

Yes, that’s never going to happen. He was a vain man, he wanted two things in life: good reading and good looking.

He should have brought Makoto with him. Had he brought Makoto with him, he could have traded the large odachi for his smaller rapier and crystal and spells to do damage, while Makoto shielded and kept the heat away from him. But they had decided to divide and conquer, in their exploits to find their fellow Scions. 

And of course, Khal, who had grown increasingly more lonesome in the past year or so, had chosen to go alone, certain there would be nothing to worry about after clearing the place twice already. What was the worse that could happen?

Oh, I don’t know? Countdown to death? How many seconds do I have left until I drown in my own blood? Must be the adrenaline keeping you so conscious throughout this. Survived several ascians and primals to get killed by a robot bull on potions because you got distracted with the blowing sirens. Gosh, you’re such a great Warrior of Light. Last hope of this world. 

He’d slow clap at himself if it didn’t hurt so much to move. He could cast living dead, but he had nothing to leech aether from and he forgot about it in the heat of the moment he could use it.

Of course the defenses had been triggered again and he found himself having to kill a few naga and chimerical monstrosities as well as machines he could barely describe, despite the Companion Node doing well to tell him what they were.

“Are you certain this aetherical localization module is here?” Khal asked.

“By the readings Wedge recovered from your previous excursions, this object seems to be part of the curated collection in there,” Cid explained through the linkpear earlier. “Some early prototype for interdimensional excursions. It was specifically used to locate certain voidsent and teleport them into our reality. We’re hoping it’s just what we need.”

“Why can’t we just ask for help from Kan-E-Senna and have her find them like she did before when Y’Shtola was in the lifestream,” Khal repeated. 

“Oi! That was my suggestion. I remember you saying something about them not being in the lifestream but out of it in another world-”

“Making it nearly impossible for her to find their souls,” Khal sighed.

They found a terminal and Cid had instructed Khal on how to activate it and proceed. It teleported them to a room where the object they had wanted was conveniently stored, and everything was running well, everything was going too well.

Until Khal tried to leave. At this point puzzling instructions that stunted both Cid and Khal’s attempts to solve them, resulted in a series of symbols in a steady rhythm changing, hence replaying the dialogue again.

It was a countdown, he was certain it was a number.

Following Cid’s instructions, Khal tried to disable whatever that countdown was, for he was sure it was not a countdown to send him home. Alas, despite their attempts, the timer reached 0, and on queue a mechanical abomination caught him completely unaware as he yet tried to deactivate the machine that whirred with a cacophony of sirens worse than the Garlean Castrums back in Eorzea.

A grotesque fusion of flesh and machinery—its hulking mass layered with thick plates of tarnished steel, the blue hue of the aether that moved the allagan monstrosities, hissing from its joints as it shifted in the dim light. Khal didn’t see it raise its metal club, all of his senses muffled by the sirens and stirring of Aether in the chamber. 

There was a sickening crack as the blunt force slammed into the center of his side, the impact so powerful it felt like the earth had opened beneath him. Ribs snapped with a sharp, splintering sound, and the air was driven from his lungs in an instant. He had no armor to protect him from the blow, as he was launched across the room like a ragdoll, limbs flailing. 

He slammed against the metal plating that framed the room, collapsing to the ground, gasping, struggling to breath as the pain seared like a hot rod through his chest. Something broke, several somethings broke.

The countdown restarted and Khal had no time to mind the pain, or the coughing. That thing turned to him, ready to finish what it started. Clear the site of the intruder, the deafening sirens still flooding his senses, making it hard for him to think over the cacophony.

“Khal?! Khal?! You there?! What’s happening?” He heard Cid’s muffled voice from the linkpearl that had been dislodged from his horns and sent tumbling by his side.

Grabbing his sword, Khal got up, activating rampart and other mitigation spells as he felt he needed. He knew something had broken, he could smell and taste the blood. He could feel the splintered bone rattling inside him. Perhaps it had been the surprise, or the flow of blood to his head, or the cut in oxygen to his brain. Maybe the noise. But he didn’t recall to use Living Dead. Had he cast that spell, he wouldn’t be as damaged. Regeneration would have kicked in.

Tank panic, Iswa would have said.

And the damned countdown was still going down! All while he fought, wincing with each step, each swing, each dodge, each spell. 

Finally, realizing the core of the abomination’s engine was in the back of its head, he was able to jump over it into its exposed neck, sinking the odachi deep into its neck. Sparks burst as metal cracked and wires were torn, blood spraying out. The creature howled, twitched and whirled, until, with fire bursting from the broken engine, it fell over. 

Khal relaxed his posture, limping over to make sure it was dead. The pain flared, suddenly reminding him of the first blow. Potions, healing spells, something. But before he could, he stumbled back, falling against the very terminal that started all that.

The sirens blared the symbols, and he could see the countdown. He coughed, seeing blood on his hands as he tried to hold back the coughing and the dizzyness that flooded him, feeling the blood gurgling in his lungs, wheezing noises coming out with his breath. 

Numbers going down.

Would it be a boom at the 0?

At least he didn’t die down Witchdrop, he chuckled to himself. Though he’d rather the kiss of the cold and the starry skies of Coerthas to the metallic noise of Azys Lla. 

7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

He never made it to 0 until darkness claimed him.

The Sirens were silent when light, although fleeting, came to his senses. He still heard metallic noises, he was still in the Fractal Continuum, but not in the room he was in before. Someone was carrying him over their shoulder, and with a grunt he tried to grasp at what he recognized as a bright white, gold and blue armor plate and what he assumed was a shield. Trying to straighten himself enough to see who was carrying him with such ease. Not that that would be hard, he was neither heavy or big.

He had been healed, not fully, but enough, the type of battlefield healing only a paladin knew how to do. But with every breath he took, the same searing hot pain flared on his lungs as if they were being filled by water. 

The person felt him stir as he gave up trying to straighten himself.

“I got you…” A familiar voice assured him. 

“What… was… at 0?” He managed to mumble.

“Oh?”

“Countdown… zero…” He tried to focus his mind. He was curious about that.

“Oh. More monsters,” came the answer plainly. “Had to fight a literal hoard to get to you.”

“How?...”

“Cid,” came the answer. “Apparently he was unable to bypass the defense system and only managed to descend near death upon you. The moment he realized he had messed up, he called Iswa for help, hence, here I am.”

“Oh…”

“Wear a damn armor next time! This vanity of yours is going to be the death of you.”

That was more words than he remembered Makoto speaking. He must have been really worried about him and Khal couldn’t stop a painful chuckle from escaping his lips.

“At least… I’ll die… looking good… The glam is… the endgame.”

He felt his friend shake his head and just closed his eyes, fading back to the abyss as he wished he had seen what came out at the end of the countdown. He was sure it was something as formidable as the biomechanical abomination that nearly ended his career as an adventurer.

[storms-path]

FFXIV 2023 Day 20 - Hamper

Arashi stared at the pile of paperwork in front of her and, for the fifth time in as many minutes, regretted her life choices. Planning permits, building contracts, furnishings, applications for students and teachers… If Arashi had known opening up an adventuring school would be so much work, she’d never have considered it in the first place. With a groan she buried her face in her hands, trying to ignore the sly smile on Lyse’s face just out of the corner of her eye. It had been a mistake to bring her work home with her.

“I did try to warn-” Lyse began, but was swiftly silenced by Arashi’s warning growl. She held up her hands in a gesture of peace until the growling stopped. Arashi slapped her tail against her chair in irritation. The latest of several monumental headaches was a strongly worded missive from a collection of Gridanian conservation groups, claiming that the prospective sight of the school would “impede and obstruct the breeding grounds of a rare subspecies of griffin”. Never mind that nobody had seen not a sight of this subspecies since before the reign of the mad king. Never mind that the school had been carefully selected to be out of the way of damn near everything else with a pulse. Never mind that it had a perfect view of the sunrise every single day. Never mind that-

“Arashi, you’re grinding your teeth again.”

Arashi took a deep, calming breath. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Arenvald, bless his heart, had offered his assistance in dealing with some of the more urgent matters. He had his suspicions that this “conservation group” was a veiled attempt to slow Ala Mhigo’s growth and restoration, likely from a faction still sore about the Autumn War. “The trees have long memories, and the denizens of the Shroud have the longest of all.” Kan-E-Senna’s words, though Arashi couldn’t remember the context. So strange that she would come to mind now of all times.

Arashi gave the mountain of paper an appraising look, then made a decision. “I quit. I’m going back to being a coin-starved adventurer and I’m never even thinking about this school again.” Yes, that felt better. She still had her armour and sword at the ready, nicely polished. Surely there was still work for the Warrior of Light. Coeurl kittens to rescue, bandits to talk down, caravans to guard. Yes, she’d be just… Arashi paused her mental back-patting to look at the shadow that had suddenly fallen over her.

Lyse had an uncharacteristic frown on her face, brows knitted together and disappointment writ plain in her pose. “You’re not giving up.” Her voice left no room for argument. Arashi was tempted all the same. For a dangerous moment Arashi let the silence hang between them, then sighed and nodded. She wasn’t the type to give up at the first hurdle, after all. Even if said hurdle is the size of Abalathia’s Spine…

Still, she wasn’t gone to get anything else done today. The pile was simply too demoralising to tackle alone. Arashi rose from her chair with a luxurious stretch, her tail wrapping neatly around Lyse’s hips. For balance reasons, obviously. Lyse took advantage of it regardless, twisting neatly and pulling Arashi into an embrace. It was a simple enough matter for Arashi to loop her arms around Lyse’s neck. A long moment of peace enveloped the pair, a much more comfortable silence descending, gently interrupted by their heartbeats.

“Thank you,” murmured Arashi against Lyse’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you sometimes.”

Lyse merely snorted, planting a kiss against Arashi’s cheek scales. “If you don’t deserve me, too bad. You have me anyway, and I’ll be damned before I let anyone else take you.” There was a particular light in her eyes. A sparkle of mischief and joy that always lit up her face. It also meant impending trouble.

Arashi tried in vain to break free, but she was much too late. Lyse’s hands went from gently cradling Arashi’s hips to hauling her bodily over Lyse’s shoulder. Not again. Arashi knew better than to struggle, particularly once Lyse’s arm was in place across her waist. “At least carry me in a more dignified manner, you ill-mannered kidnapper,” Arashi grumbled against Lyse’s back. She tried to ignore the particular ripple in Lyse’s back muscles as she shifted her newfound weight. If I can’t poach her for the school, perhaps I can bring her in for guest demonstrations now and then. Showing off her forms. Purely for educational purposes, obviously.

Lyse made a considering noise, spare hand resting against her chin in an exaggerated gesture. “No, I think I like this better.” Then she was off, hauling her wife up the stairs like a sack of popotoes. Still, Arashi couldn’t complain too much. Lyse knew exactly how to release pent-up stress, and she was a very attentive teacher in that regard. There went the rest of the day’s plans.

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2023 | Prompt #7: Noisome

1: noxious, harmful; "a noisome pestilence"

2a: offensive to the senses and especially to the sense of smell; "noisome garbage"

-1,815 words -content warnings: canon-typical violence aftermath and blood, one heavy swear (it's basically the Waking Sands raid aftermath, so you know what to expect)

----

Mia is padding behind Elilgeim from a small distance, granting her a wide berth after the blistering spat they just had, when it hits her.

She stops short before she crashes right into Elilgeim’s back. “Wh—Elilgeim?” She blinks. Why’d she stop? She ducks around her, frowning—and sees the small crowd gathered outside the Waking Sands before she sees Elilgeim’s raised eyebrow at the sight. Outside their secret headquarters.

“...Something’s wrong,” Elilgeim says softly, her brow furrowing in concern. And she’s right this time, Mia realizes; there’s an odd tension in the air and a strange buzz amidst the gathered onlookers, murmurs and whispers and furtive glances at the building.

And then she smells it. Rustlike, metallic. Noisome. Her stomach churns. It’s like the scent that follows them after every battle, but more pungent and fetid. The stench of blood. She swallows and shoots another glance at Elilgeim, and for the first time since their argument the previous day, the roegadyn looks back at her; the grimace tells Mia she’s not alone. She smells it, too.

She and Elilgeim suddenly begin to move; ‘tis fortunate that Mia’s rather tall for a hyur and Elilgeim is a roegadyn, because it allows them to carve a path through the crowd quickly and easily, and they reach the door in seconds. Elilgeim reaches out to push on it, but it holds fast, and she frowns. “What in the…”

“The hinges,” Mia realizes, seeing them broken and twisted on the side of the doorframe.

“...Shite,” Elilgeim curses. She grabs her cane, steps back, and jabs the bottom against the wood; earthen stone forms from the aether and bursts, shattering the door into pieces. Ignoring the gasps and even more excited murmurs from the crowd, she ducks in past the door’s remains; with a brief glance over her shoulder, ensuring no one wishes to follow them, Mia follows suit.

The smell is even stronger within, though there’s no sign of any distress… although there’s also no sight of Tataru, cheerily winking and waving at them to welcome them home after a long day’s work. That only disquiets Mia even further as they keep moving, descend the stairs to the underground hallways that form the Waking Sands. When Elilgeim wrenches open that door—she suddenly coughs and slaps a hand over her mouth. It hits Mia a second later, and her eyes widen as she covers her nose before she can gag. The two of them look at each other again, and Mia can see dread writ plain in Elilgeim’s eyes.

“Minfilia,” the roegadyn whispers as it dawns on her—and then she whirls and sprints through the door, into the darkness. “Minfilia!”

Mia swallows and gives chase, her own dread magnifying too quickly. She hates when it’s right.

She nearly trips over the first body, stops short, and stares at the dozens more littering the hallway. Adventurers, diplomats, friends—cold and still like the grave. Strewn all over like discarded trash. Blood pooling against corners and underneath larger bodies. Down here, this close, the smell is overwhelming, unbearable. “No,” she whispers in horror, and her stomach churns and bile rises and she clamps her hands to her mouth. Fury, no, please…

She spies one specific corpse lying in the center of the hall, across a young elezen woman—one of her fellow Scions. But the body on top wears the dull grey and rust red armor… of an imperial legionnaire.

It hadn’t escaped Elilgeim’s attention, either; she had stopped short again, staring at the body in horror as the gears clearly turned in her mind to process what it meant.

“They found us,” Mia whispers, her voice and her whole body shaking. “The Empire found us.”

Elilgeim stares at the dead legionnaire for another few seconds… and then her shoulders coil, tense up, as she looks further up the hallway. Upon the double doors to the solar…which were wide open and hanging off the hinges as the entrance was.

“...Minfilia,” she mutters again—and again, she’s off, sprinting desperately towards the solar—if there’s any chance, Mia realizes, her friends, or their Antecedent, still breathes among the bodies… and again, Mia gives chase, running as fast as she can as her heart falls to pieces in her chest.

To her shock, it’s not Minfilia’s body they find in the solar. It’s Lilyana’s and Noraxia’s.

The young, bright, and chipper miqo’te rogue, who had been there with them as Minfilia inducted them into the Scions in this very room, whom they hadn’t had a chance to go on a mission with yet but was always there to greet them with a smile and her cheery attitude when they returned, a young Echo-blessed warrior like her and Elilgeim who always seemed delighted to see her—she is curled up against the front of Minfilia’s desk with a small but very bloody bullet hole in her stomach. In her lap is a small form of what Mia absurdly thinks is a pile of leaves before she realizes it’s Noraxia, just as limp.

“No,” Elilgeim utters, a sob wrenching its way free from her throat. “No—”

And then Lilyana groans and rolls her head to the side, her eyelids weakly fluttering open to reveal glazed pupils that shakingly attempt to focus on them. “Eli…geim? Mia…?”

“Lily—” In an instant, both Mia and Elilgeim are at her side; Elilgeim grabs Lilyana’s hand with one of hers and lifts her cane in the other. “Yes, Lily, it’s us! We’re here!” She sounds more desperate than Mia’s ever heard her. “I’ve got you—you’re gonna be okay!” She grits her teeth as her staff glows, and elemental energies swirl around its head and begin pouring into the two limp bodies below them.

It’s the same look of determination on Elilgeim’s face, Mia realizes—the same look she wears every time the two of them have an explosive argument about how to carry out their mission. But this time it’s in pursuit of something markedly different.

“Mia, stop gawking and put your hand here so we can stanch the bleeding!”

Mia starts like she’s awoken, and she grimaces as she obediently presses her hands on either side of the bullet wound on Lilyana’s stomach. She holds her breath, forcing the bile down, putting aside all else, ignoring the stench of blood as much as she can. It’s the most agonizing moment of her entire life, and she can barely help, and she has never felt more helpless or horrified.

“Forget me,” Lilyana murmurs, “Noraxia’s… she crushed Noraxia ‘gainst the wall…”

“I’m getting her too.” The determination blazes in Elilgeim’s eyes. “Stay calm, just keep breathing—I’ve got you, I promise, you two’re gonna be okay.”

“No—” The three women start as Noraxia stirs and blinks wearily, weakly, up at Mia. “Walking ones…must stay safe…”

And then Elilgeim and Mia shout in unison as their heads pound and the Echo brutally kicks in for them—and shows them just who is responsible for the the deaths, the abductions, the carnage before them. Who diffused the stench of blood across the Waking Sands.

When they come to, Lilyana’s staring hopelessly at them—but Noraxia presses on. “Antecedent one… left message. Sanctuary in… eastern church, near… Drybone… Friends of walking ones.”

“Saint Adama Landama,” Mia says automatically, sucking in breath, fighting down the gag urge as the smell enters her mouth, and then latching on and holding this tiny pinprick of hope tightly to her breast.

Elilgeim blinks in confusion briefly, then shakes it free and presses one hand to Noraxia’s tiny torso. “Got it. Thank you, Noraxia. Don’t talk, you need—”

“No,” Noraxia breathes again, “this one…has spent all strength…but this one is glad…to deliver message…”

“Noraxia,” Lilyana moans, weakly lifting her hand to try and brace the tiny sylph’s head, “no, no, she’s—she’s got you, you’re gonna be okay…”

“This one…tried to protect Antecedent…from imperial ones…Forgive this one…” And the tiny sylph lifts her twiglike arm up towards Elilgeim’s face, even as the roegadyn stares down at her in horror, even as elemental energies pour forth from her hand to… as far as Mia can tell, no effect… no… “Save…h…”

And then the little sylph Scion falls limp in Lilyana’s lap, and Lilyana lets out a wordless scream of pain and anguish that shatters Mia’s heart into pieces.

“No—she didn’t—” Lilyana howls and slams her head against the front of the desk, and both Elilgeim and Mia flinch backwards, “it should have been me, I hid like a coward and she flew out in front of Minfilia and now she’s dead and Minfilia’s GONE, NO, I SHOULD’VE—”

“Shut up!” Elilgeim shouts suddenly, grabbing the front of Lilyana’s shirt and yanking her forward, away from the desk—Mia falls back, stunned, horrified, as Elilgeim focuses her glare directly in Lilyana’s face… with her glowing, healing hand now on her stomach. “You shut the hells up and listen to me, Lilyana Tsuki!” Elilgeim clenches her teeth, breathes in deep, closes her eyes that are now shedding a steady stream of tears, and says, quickly, furiously, even as the glow on her hand intensifies, “We’re going to this sanctuary, we’re going to lick our wounds there, and you are going to live, and we’ll get everyone back and we’ll save Minfilia and we’ll drive the godsdamned Empire out of Eorzea—there’s too much you have to do, so don’t you fucking dare enter Thal’s realm now!”

And Lilyana stares, horrified, guilt and shame swimming in her eyes, and Mia opens her mouth prepared to deliver a blistering rebuke, how dare she— and then Lilyana nods, and the words stick in Mia’s throat.

“We’re going to live,” Elilgeim repeats, and as she does the hole in Lilyana’s stomach finally closes up, though the elemental energies continue to flow forth from Elilgeim’s hand. And the roegadyn looks up at Mia, exhausted, furious, relieved—there are a billion emotions swirling through her face right now and Mia can barely process her own, let alone what she sees. “...Aren’t we?”

Mia stares back. After all the arguments, all the glares and sneers, the sheer rage in her eyes in those moments of determination… she can’t even begin to understand why now Elilgeim looks upon her hoping to grasp onto something.

…Onto anything. Anything so they can live on.

“...We will.” Mia nods firmly and reaches out, and clasps Lilyana’s hand; the young miqo’te’s head whips around to stare at her in relief. “We will.” She swallows and pushes the bile back down again and clenches her free hand into a fist. The Empire will pay for this. “...Come on. Let’s get the hells away from this stench.”

Elilgeim nods and mutters, “couldn’t agree more,” and she quickly and easily scoops Lilyana into her arms—eliciting a shocked yelp from the miqo’te—and stands, and the three women quickly make good their escape to sanctuary.

Moons, even years later, Mia still remembers that noisome stench.

[vashtxt]

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍:

NICKNAME / ALIAS: N / Noir / N-mun

FACECLAIM: Dazai Osamu from BSD

PRONOUNS: he/him

HEIGHT: Short King

BIRTHDAY: August 27th

AESTHETIC: Do I have aesthetic? Monochrome or monochrome + a colour that is more vivid in the middle (gold or red, mostly)

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Fight Fire With Gasoline

FAVOURITE MUSE(S) YOU’VE WRITTEN: Roxas (KH), Sans (UT), Izaya (DRRR), Dazai (BSD), Atem (YGO), Fandaniel (FFXIV) ... And I'd say right now the twin plants from TriStamp.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓:

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON THIS MUSE:

After watching the series I fell in love with the lore and after searching for analysis and explanations I ended up saying, I need to write about it. And writing roleplay has been something I did almost all my life so... Here we are.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE:

Vash reminds me how incapable I am of being a bad person despite trying. And if I hurt, I will always regret it. I pretty much align myself with his thoughts. And always blame me even if it wasn't entirely my fault? Well, it's a constant internal struggle. On the other hand, writing Knives helps me explore the other point of view, and in fact many of my OCs tend to have that point of view + a bit of madness... I enjoy writting grey characters, I cannot lie there.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING:

Music, music is my muse. Always has been and always will be. Finding the right music for a theme I want to write is enough. But I also ended up feeling inspired by reading ideas and analysis from other people about the series. I find them very interesting to understand well the characters.

FAVOURITE TYPES OF THREADS:

My favourites will always be the ones I create chaotically because my muse did something stupid. People laugh, have fun reading the dashboard and even make silly comments. Those things give me life. Now, about a more serious types of threads I like: threads where the characters need to face their problems to keep going. The evolution of the two characters is what I most enjoy writing and delving into. But yeah in summary, if you look for comedy or angst I'm your guy.

Do you want to do it? Template here -> 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

[writingmoth]

Oh hello fren

🌱 book that inspired your wip

🌾 book you would / have writ(t)e(n) fanfic for

hello!!

🌱 book that inspired your wip

the fifth season, more in terms of writing than themes/content, i think. idk, i think reading the fifth season rewired something in my brain, i love it so much! i was already a big fan of post-apocalyptic worlds before, but this book cemented my love for them (all my three wips and my interactive fiction game are set in post-apocalyptic worlds because i'm the most predictable person ever).

fey books in general were also a big influence for fantasy romance wip, tho i cant pinpoint one in specific.

🌾 book you would / have writ(t)e(n) fanfic for

i don't think i've ever written fanfic for a book? it's very hard for me to "take control" of characters who aren't mine so i just... don't, usually. the only fanfic i've ever written (i think???) was for games where the main character is, you know, mine (so ffxiv and destiny so far, basically).

but if i had to choose a book to write fanfic for... hm... probably lotr. or rather, the silmarillion. i love some messy elves

thank you so much for the ask!!!

[vixlenxe]

You know what else I'd be doing if I had any confidence in my writting?

A lot of FFXIV ship fics LMAO