#ffxivwrite free day

[midnightmagicks]

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Day 15: Free/Makeup Day (Rest)

Rest: An instance or period of relaxing or ceasing to engage in strenuous or stressful activity.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The sound of a foot tapping against the ground as a long tail swished irritatedly. L’harir stared upwards towards the horrible tangle of….fabrics that dangled from the rafters. Blankets, pillows, and what looked to be his fabrics. The nice ones. 

No matter what he did, the problem hiding in his rafters always seemed to find his way back in. He was frustratingly good at lock-picking and nearly impossible to hear when he didn’t want to be. With a flick of his head, L’harir tossed his hair out of his face and cleared his throat, hoping to get the other’s attention. 

A small noise, similar to that of a cat you gently poke awake, drifted down. A shuffling of fabrics. And a fur tipped tail lazily draping over the edge were the only indications that someone was actually awake up there. The tail swayed slowly and a voice met L’harir’s ears. “<Helllooo Harir. Welcome back.>” The voice was deep and raspy, evident that the man above was very much asleep. He was much too comfortable in a home that was not even his own. Harir huffed and quirked a brow, slight annoyance creeping in.

“Fareed. Get out of the rafters. And give me my fabric back.” Arms stretched out with a groan, and finally the face of Fareed peaked over the edge, a goofy grin on his face.  “Awwh, but Harir! They’re so comfortable and high quality! How could you deny me a proper rest on such fine fabrics!”

L’harir did not look amused by this sentiment, but that didn’t dissuade Fareed in the slightest. His lazy grin stayed, and he wiggled his tail with a playful energy.

“You could always join me? Maybe a nice nap will loosen you up some. <Come onnn, it’s quite comfortable up here!>”

“If I have to come up there, you will not enjoy it! Give me my fabric!”

Fareed flicked his tail and grinned brighter, disappearing into the nest again. There was no sign of him coming down and all that could be heard was a mischievous chuckle.

------------------ Thank you @placesyoucallhome for letting me borrow L'harir <3 <3 <3 Fareed loves to tease him :)

[crystal-verse]

Day 13 - Butte

[writing this for the make-up day since i didn't get to it on time earlier, oops]

"Do you think the Ostall Imperative counts as a butte?" Sae'pheli'ehva asks, one day, swinging his legs lazily through the air as they both sit at the little watchtower by the Tenemos Rookery.

"Could you clarify that question?" Raha asks, tilting their head somewhat to the side. It's still so very -- odd, to walk about with the cowl down, but Sae'pheli'ehva's easy acceptance, and the easy acceptance of the Crystarium's people, does much to soothe any lingering anxieties.

"Like -- " Sae'pheli'ehva begins, cutting himself off with a frustrated noise. This, too, is something new -- an effort to speak, even if all the words may not be composed in the moment. "So, a butte is like. . . a really steep hill or mountain that's moreso than the rest of the surrounding terrain, right?"

"I suppose." Raha agrees. "By that logic, I am inclined to say the Ostall Imperaive does not count, on account of it being connected to the cliffs near the Source, rather than any hills that jut out particularly much."

A quiet hum. "That reminds me -- there's more of Lakeland than just what I've seen so far, isn't there?"

Raha inclines his head, in a half nod. "That is correct, yes."

Sae'pheli'ehva grins down at him, then, eyes curving into little smiles. "Do you think there's Norvrandt's version of the little crystal cave in Mor Dhona we found, back when you were helping me look for the different pieces of Summoner outfits and artifacts and such?"

"There. . . may." Raha agrees, slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to take you on an adventure with me, you silly man." Sae'pheli'ehva looks at them as if they're foolish. "And -- this way we'll still be in Lakeland, so you won't be too far from your Tower, so you won't get all fatigued."

"I --" Raha has to close their mouth, from the sudden swell of emotion. "I should like that very much, Sae'pheli'ehva."

"Pheli." The other corrects, that smile still curling his eyes. "If you're Raha, then I'm Pheli, okay?"

". . . alright, Pheli. Thank you."

"Of course." Pheli bunts his head against Raha's shoulder, and -- they will go on their little adventure, soon. But right now, they are simply sitting and enjoying the breeze together.

[chocoblep]

#15: Warming Up to the Idea

Prompt: Freee day! (Achieve)

Illian leaned over the temperature control panel that he’d nearly finished embedding into the wall, screwdriver in hand. He was fairly certain he would have to adjust the crystals below the floor once he finished this step and turned it on, as he’d used a modified version of the one he had in his own workspace. Now that he’d had sufficient time to test it, he’d slowly started installing these temperature controls in other places around Highvale Manor. This particular unit was for the kitchen–specifically, the larder. If he could get it to keep a consistently cold temperature, then they could store more in the space while using significantly less ice crystals.  Thankfully, they’d just cleaned it out and moved the contents they were keeping to a temporary cooler, so if this didn’t work, at least things wouldn’t spoil. Still, he was fairly sure it would.

He finished the panel’s install, and then went to double-check the wires he’d attached to the regulator below. The only differences in this setup was the lack of switch from warm to cold and the presence of two ice crystals instead of an ice and fire crystal from which to draw aspected aether. Once he was certain all of the connections were in place, he moved back outside the larder and began to press buttons on the panel. Setting it to freezing temperatures, he confirmed his choice, and then tipped his head to listen.

When he heard the tell-tale whir of the fans, he smiled and rounded back into the larder to feel in front of the three ducts along the top of the wall with his bare fingers. Satisfied with the cold air pushing into the room, he covered the floor panel and then walked out and closed the door.

“What’s for lunch, Khalan?” he asked, and the cook–an older dark-skinned Miqo’te woman with silvery streaks in her pulled-back dark hair–turned her tea-green eyes toward him. A smile lit her face.

“Oh, done already, are ya? That was quick!” She was already pulling out a plate and setting it on the counter. “Popoto crisps are almost done, and I could build ya a sandwich ahead of the rest of ‘em.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Illian said, swinging his leg over one of the stools that usually went unused at the kitchen counter. Most people ate in the dining room, and Rath seemed to vacillate between eating with his staff and taking his meals privately. It really depended on whether or not he was absorbed in a task.

As Khalan built his sandwich, the pair chattered about different things that he could improve around the kitchen. The device he’d made to mix ingredients for baked goods had saved her aging arms many aches, but her knuckles were starting to get knobby and stiff.

“Should we be looking into getting you an apprentice, or an assistant, to take over when you finally decide to retire?” he asked, not bothering to hide his concern.

“Oh, you know me and my kitchen,” she replied.

And he did. He’d once tried to help her prepare a meal, and gotten the biggest lecture of his life  for it. M’rath was banned from using it, and he’d floated the idea of an assistant or apprentice several times with no luck. He gave her a nod as she loaded up some of the finished crisps onto a plate and then finished his sandwich, sliding the food over to him.

“At least have Lord Highvale look at your hands,” he implored, before crunching into his first crisp and biting back a groan of happiness.

“That, I’ll do,” she replied, turning back toward the stove to pull out the last tray of crisps and set them out to cool. “At my age, I wouldn’t terribly mind an extra set of hands–ah, but they've got to be capable! Not somebody like you coming in to help!”

“Firstly, rude,” he said around a bite from his sandwich. “Secondly, you’re right; I’m not an experienced cook, unless you count campfire meals.”

“Which I don’t. If you’re going to insist on hiring me an assistant, then I need to test them.” She eyed Illian with a stern expression, placing both hands on her soft hips.

“I’ll talk to him about it, and we will bring any prospective candidates to you. I promise.” It was an assurance that he could keep, and as he watched her nod and go to grab the tongs, moving slower than she used to, he thought that perhaps he should initiate that process sooner rather than later.

When he was done eating, he checked on the larder’s temperature, delighted to find that it had chilled to the temperature he’d set. Supplying Khalan with instructions to monitor the panel every half bell and report any fluctuations to him, he set off back through the manor to attend his other duties. Nothing else was going to give him the satisfaction of convincing Khalan to entertain the idea of someone else sharing her kitchen, but they had to be done nonetheless.

[meximango]

Day 18 - Hackneyed - Vaile + Bobby - PG

Summary: Vaile has a short encounter with Cahsi’s retainer.

Part 1 of 2. Part 2 can be found here! --

Vaile had never been in this residential district–or any other than Ishgard’s, if he was being honest. The kind of work he had been so used to did not lead him to safe, well-lit, nice-smelling places like these. When meeting up with an acquaintance (the word ‘friend’ was still strange to him, and he avoided using it if he could), they always met up in a city or at a dungeon site or on the road if they happened to bump into each other. 

The sight of all these houses made him feel like an intruder, even though he knew it was full of adventurer’s abodes, rather than normal civilians. Nobody was going to harass him or try to send him away unless he stepped over a line. Hells, Cahsi had told him plenty of people left their homes unlocked! Only a retainer to keep watch, with a book that visitors could sign to give their opinion on the owner’s interior decorating skills. Apparently, it was a form of relaxation for many, and a way for folks to show off their conquests (‘look at this great beast I slayed and mounted its wings on my wall! Gasp in awe!’) It felt like something from a children’s storybook, and he wasn’t sure if Cahsi was just fucking with him or if that was supposed to be considered normal. No way was he about to test if it was true by going into some stranger’s home and potentially getting caught in their homemade dungeon.

Which is why he had to be sure the house he was setting out to find was actually Cahsi’s. 

This place was too quaint for the likes of someone like him, but he needed something from Cahsi, and she said she’d be at her home all weekend. So he’d bear through it. He was tough. He could handle wading through a domestic setting without his skin itching for a fight. Probably. (and if he thought about it too long, it’d bring him back to that brief year of happiness with Axel. The closest he ever got to a domestic life. No thanks, brain.) 

Cahsi had sent him a letter to him via moogle mail with the most awful, nonsensical map known to man explaining how to find her home, which he’d never been to and hadn’t planned on. But she was ‘too lazy to bother traveling somewhere to meet up, even if it were at a major aetheryle. Please Vaile, I just want one lazy weekend where I don’t have to dress up and put on my weapon. You come to me, or you can wait.’ 

So here he was. Sort of. He was close? He was in the correct general area, as far as he could tell, but all these districts looked exactly the same, and ‘it’s a carbuncle themed house, you can’t miss it’, did not help when there were a surprising number of people with colorful homes themed after the same creature. Cahsi didn’t seem to be wearing her linkpearl right now, as she wasn’t picking up. He sighed. Not worth the trouble for what he needed, maybe, but he’d already traveled…

After another few minutes of aimless wandering and deliberation, he finally went to the nearest retainer bell and rang it until he could get someone to fetch Cahsi’s for him. 

When the familiar, stout figure arrived at the plaza, Vaile wasted no time: “Hey, you! Retainer. Where is she?”

Upon noticing who it was asking, the retainer’s face went from a neutral expression to one of slight annoyance. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly know what you mean. Some manners would go a long way to start, boy.”

“Just tell me!”

“....”��

The lalafell in front of him pretended to examine and remove a speck of dust from his outfit, completely ignoring the reaper that towered over him. Hard to be cowed by a punk with a short fuse when you were already dead, after all. Not much phased Bobby, though he certainly could phase through plenty. Having been around for numerous calamities and no signs of returning to the afterlife, Bobby had gotten exceedingly good at controlling his physicality. He could be solid when needed to do his job, but most of the time he was invisible or a blue-tinged, see-through mirage like right now.

It was a standoff Vaile wouldn’t win if he wanted an answer. “Fine. Hello. Nice weather we’re having, aren’t we. Now tell me where Cahsi is.”

“Mmm? And what do we say? A magic word, perhaps?”

“Oh for the love of–you insufferable mage. Please.” Vaile’s teeth were grit together so hard, he could nearly hear them creaking. His hand itched to reach for his weapon, useless as it’d be. Still, it could be fun to see a scythe swing through the man’s apparition. Would it flicker?

“There, now was that really so difficult? Was that painful for you?” His tone dripped with condescension.

“You are so lucky you’ve already left this plane, or I’d be breaking my promise of no bloodshed on the premises right about now–”

“Tsk tsk, the youths these days are so hotheaded. You’d best work on yourself, lad, or I won’t allow you to see miss Theia anymore. She doesn’t need to associate with ruffians.”

“And she doesn’t need a stuffy retainer like you choosing who she gets to see! Let her make her own decisions. She’s the one who invited me here.”

Something changed in Bobby’s expression, the tiniest hint of approval in his eyes. “Hmm. You’re right, I suppose. She’s handled far worse and prickly than you. Very well then.It’s the home right across from the pool, one block down to your left. You can’t miss it. You’ll find her in the library with some guests–friends. I believe you know them. I do hope you’ve packed a bag?”

“What? Why would I need a bag to talk to her?”

“Why, for the sleepover, of course!”

And with that, the retainer flickered into nothing, no doubt having had his fill of tomfoolery for the day.

Good riddance! A sentiment shared by both.

Vaile quickly reached his destination, the sign in front confirming it was hers. Cahsi’s door was unlocked, and there was note waiting for him, telling him she’d be downstairs. Must be where the library is.

As he approached the door leading to it, he heard muffles voices and laughter. Was he really about to intrude on a ‘sleepover’, and whatever that entailed? It was barely dinnertime!

Better to get this over with, Vaile. Sooner you get in there, the sooner you can leave.

As he opened the door, he heard a sentence that made him regret coming here and wishing Bobby had given him the wrong directions: “This has to be the most hackneyed sex pollen plot I’ve ever read, and don’t even get me started about the characterization!”

Was it too late to turn around and pretend he was never here? Unfortunately, three faces turned toward him and exclaimed in greeting.

“Vaile! You’re just in time. You have to join us!”

He nearly felt his adrenaline spike as though he were about to enter battle. What the hells was he getting himself into…?

- To Be Continued… ? - [next]

[ink-dreams-ffxiv]

Prompt 8: Heretic (Free Day Challenge)

     Rehna sat at the table overlooking the beach. The soft sounds of the rain falling on the sail cloth umbrella added just the right ambiance to her story.

“It was not long after arriving in Ishgard. I had been chosen by the Conjurer’s Guild for both my skills as a student, but also my skills as a teacher. As close as it had been to the Dragonsong War, there was still some animosity towards outsiders. Having ears and a tail did not endear me to my fellow students. That I was also teaching a class on Conjury to the students that heard the voices of the Elements didn’t help matters much either. An outsider, teaching a foreign magic, and one they considered no better than the beast tribes.” She sighed, taking a sip of the fruit juice before her. “I was quickly labeled a Heretic by the students of the High Houses whose status was being challenged.” She listened to the person across the table, a sailor who had been born in Tural. His tale was much like the others she had sought out. A person they had never met, acted, spoke, even affected the same mannerisms and quirks they had come to associate from Home. In this case, Hhetsarro had encountered an Ul’dahn Monetarist of the Lalafel persuasion that could have been a twin for a Pelupelu they had often traded with after having returned from far away places. For Rehna, it made sense, in her experience so far, the PeluPelu were the scrupulous form of Monetarists. They sought fair trade, where most, but not all of those from Ul’dah chased profit and wealth. She wrote out both the Pelupelu and Lalafel’s name in case she came across them in her travels. There was the possibility she could at some point come across both, and perhaps, see this likeness for herself.  They agreed, each other’s stories were indeed fair trade, and with that, she took her leave.  

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2024: The Nautilus Bloweth

((I thought I was done with FFXIVwrite for the year, but then I started thinking about the nautilus… So here's Fal being a hater after knocking back a few drinks. Imagine him slamming an empty glass on a table and making all sorts of wild gestures and fart sounds in accompaniment to this rant.))

"Sharlayan was ready to take their best and brightest to the moon and leave the rest of us to rot?!? Why am I not surprised. My dad studied there and he's just about one of the most brutally practical, humorless dicks you'll ever meet. Never did a thing out of the goodness of his heart. But I digress. I'm not gonna discuss my daddy issues. I'd need a few more drinks or to hear a few more of all your nice juicy confessions about sex or murder before that, hmm? No one up for that?

Annnnnyway, the damn Sharlayans are sooo happy to hoard knowledge under the guise of "not interfering" with the rest of the world. But I think I know the real reason they hoard their knowledge. It makes me sound like a backwater hick to say this… shit I AM a backwater hick to the likes of them… but they just enjoy thinking that they're better than everyone else. LOOOVE IT. Did you know they fucked off out of the Eorzean alliance right around the time the Garleans decided to try conquering the world? They think they're so above it all, shit…

You know what I think is hilarious about the Sharlayans? The fact that they have a nautilus as their national symbol. A nautilus! I used to find their shells on the beach in the 'Ciels and old Rymmharr the Maelstrom sailor told me everything he knew about them. See? That's what you do with knowledge. You share it. There are a lot of things to respect about those floating shell... things, but they respect them for all the wrong reasons.

But yeah, I've seen fossils in the 'Ciels that look EXACTLY like those shells I could find on the beach at low tide right now. It's barely changed in gods know how many millennia. They might tell you 'oh well you can't elaborate on perfection you know' and that might be true for the animal, but it should never be true for people. We should always be learning and growing, making ourselves better AND helping others get better! I think it just goes to show the fact that they refuse to change no matter how much evidence piles up about how wrong they are and no matter how close the wolf gets to their door.

And did you know its a scavenger? Mucking and sqeulching and blurping around in rotting whale innards and old fish heads. Scavengers have a damned beautiful and absolutely sacred duty and the nautilus is no exception, but a real scavenger recycles what it eats. It puts life back into the lifestream and nourishment in the soil and in the water. But what do the Sharlayans do? Just take it out of the cycle. They eat the knowledge others produce and keep it for themselves without putting anything back. Greedy fat bastards.

The funniest part of all this is that the damn things swim ass-backwards! Its perfect, isn't it. Fucking perfect. Sharlayans just looking at their own asses, enjoying the smell of their own farts as they pbbbbttthhhh through the water while the rest of us are trying to look forward and keep this damn world together.

And lastly, it doesn't even live in Sharlayan waters! It lives around warm coral reefs! If knowledge is so fucking important to the Sharlayans, you think they'd know more about their own goddamn national symbol.

Knowledge seeks no man, huh? Blow it out your brine-stinking, corpse-eating asses!"

((After this he'd probably try to tongue kiss the nearest person and then start a singalong.

Also "The Nautilus Knoweth" is the name of the BGM in Old Sharlayan.))

[winddragonart]

FFXIV Write 2024 #8: Free Day

Chosen Word: Corn Title: The Cornservant Cometh

K’ome was exploring Tuliyollal by herself, excited to be a stranger in a new city. Even better that these people didn’t know her as “The Warrior of Light” or “The Savior of Etheirys”.

She was just K’ome.

She snagged some tacos from Aunt Tii’s Tacos and made her way to sit at a nearby table.

“Ah, you have already found means to state your hunger.”

Her ears flicked at the sound of a soft voice and a rustle of leaves. Looking around, then down, she spotted… “Corn…?”

“Oh? You can see me?”

She nodded.

“And you can hear me as well. How fortuitous!”

The corn cob with legs “looked” up at K’ome. “I am the Cornservant. It is my duty to make sure no one goes hungry. May I prevail on you to assist in my work?”

K’ome could only blink, taco half way to her open mouth, half the fillings fallen onto her plate.

“I…mean…Can I finish my meal first?”

[luck-and-larceny]

Decency

It was too hot to sleep and her adrenaline was still too high to really consider it anyway. Malika rolled to her side and the springs of the shitty mattress she had stolen for this shitty safehouse squeaked and creaked under her weight. She'd never heard a mattress creak before, but that was absolutely what this one did.

Once situated adequately (if not comfortably) she stared at the evening's haul.

Pants.

Only pants.

So many pants.

The question "What in the seven hells is wrong with me?" floated momentarily in the air, but was dismissed as quickly as ever. Nothing. There was nothing wrong with her. There was something wrong with everyone else.

There was definitely something wrong with Hollaent Dennmhar–- namely that he didn't have any more pants because Malika had stolen every last pair.

She'd been on her way to another job, but found herself sidelined when she'd heard the Roegadyn snidely suggest that a girl, a stranger to him by all indications, was wearing a skirt that was too short for public decency and that she should 1) be embarrassed and 2) "Get some pants!"

If he had yelled this at Malika she'd have hiked her skirt up even further to spite him. But he hadn't yelled it at her, he'd yelled it at a girl who responded by full-body blushing (adorable) and stammering an apology to him.

An apology!

For wearing a short skirt!?

Anyone with any sense should have been -thanking- her for making the day a bit brighter, not scolding her into an apology for it.

Malika did not make it to her original job that evening. She'd have to try again the next.

She knew Hollaent– or at least of him. A modestly wealthy "decent" man (an oxymoron if Malika had ever heard one), he thoroughly enjoyed calling out people for their perceived "sins" in an attempt to "clean up the dirty streets of Ul'dah". Most were unaffected by him; he was just a weird man who loved yelling and that yelling changed nothing. Malika typically ignored him, too.

But today he'd gone too far!

He'd forced her to sneak into his home while he was busy berating the "trash" of Ul'dah. It was his fault that she carefully checked every closet and dresser she could find and stole every last pair of pants.

Likewise, it was entirely his own doing that kept her hidden nearby when he returned home and made her spirit away the pants he had worn during the day as he bathed, blissfully unaware that there would be no pants for him to change into whenever he should decide that pants were a necessity.

But she wasn't completely heartless. If she were needlessly cruel she'd be no better than he was, after all. Tsk. That wouldn't do. She couldn't leave him completely without options: she'd left him a short skirt he could wear in place of pants.

Now, Malika rested on her shitty, creaky mattress in an intensely shitty, run down room and reflected on the fact that she had not eaten the whole day, she was miserably hot, she had not even a single gil to her name, and that she'd pissed off her client by delaying her actual job by another day. All she had to show for herself was pants.

So many fucking pants.

And that realization made her smile.

"Fucking worth it."

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 27 - Sole

If Arashi had been told as a child that she would one day be sitting at a table sipping coffee with a picturesque view of the end of the universe, watching carefully a man who had all-too-recently made it his life’s purpose to duel her to the death, she’d have said she didn’t talk to strangers, especially those that talked nonsense. If she had been told the same thing as an adult, she’d have given the teller a flat look and walked away. And yet, she mused, sipping just-slightly-too-hot coffee, here she was. And there he was. In a constructed body, true, and more likely just a lingering echo, but Zenos viator Galvus sat opposite her all the same. Watching her intently through a glowing helmet.

Arashi had noticed his attention several days earlier while assisting the staff of the Last Dregs with their maintenance of Elysion. One of the Karellians had been watching her intently as she worked, not even bothering to be subtle as their gaze followed her to and fro. Arashi wasn’t unused to such attention (being the Warrior of Light led to someone getting quite used to such things), but something about it felt uncomfortably familiar. And so Arashi had hatched a plan. As she worked, the Karellian watched her. As the Karellian worked, Arashi watched them. A good deal more subtly, of course.

It was the strangest thing. It was obvious in the being’s movements that they were the former crown prince. The practised fluidity. The predator’s gaze lingering over his fellow workers, sizing them all up. The voice (when Arashi dared to get close enough to hear it) was him to a tee, even muffled though it was by his helmet. And yet… He was gentle. He was compliant. He worked without complaint and took orders without question. He laboured, for the first time in his life, for the betterment of others. It was like watching a tiger take up dancing lessons.

It hadn’t lasted long before he had noticed her. But he hadn’t exploded into violence or worse, one of his uncomfortably passionate rants. He appeared nervous, more than anything. As if he hadn’t been watching her every move for days on end. It was, truth be told, the only reason she hadn’t cut him down where he stood. Instead, against her better judgement, she had chosen to “escort” him to a quiet table and a pair of hot drinks. Against her worst expectations, he had accepted without a word.

The silence stretched on dangerously, the outcome of the confrontation hanging on a blade’s edge of unspoken words. Truthfully, Arashi wasn’t sure what to say. She’d thought the man dead and… well, not buried but safely filed away at the edge of space. Apparently the ambient dynamis had other ideas. What do you say to the ghost of a man you killed twice over? Finally, Arashi settled on:

“Why are you here? How are you here?”

The helmet gave no emotions away, but Zenos shrugged in what Arashi could only guess was an awkward fashion. It looked unnatural on him, stolen body or otherwise. “Some trick of our slain foe, I can only imagine. I was ready to embrace my end by your hand, my friend, but to my utmost displeasure, I awoke again. It appears my tale is not yet told, much though I laboured to write such a perfect conclusion.”

Yes, it’s definitely him alright. Arashi stifled an irritated sigh. If she ever encountered Meteion out there in the stars again she would have strong words for the little songbird. Still… “Next question. You knew I was here for weeks and did nothing. Why?”

Another shrug, Zenos’s helmet turning away. His slightly tinny voice sounded, for the first time, uncertain. Arashi took another sip from her steaming mug. “I… You were the victor. We gave everything we had in our clash and in the end it was you who walked away. This is a soldier’s body, but it has grown weary of war. And so, it seems, have I.”

Zenos didn’t mind the spray of coffee that erupted out of Arashi’s mouth and splattered his gold-and-blue helmet. The revelation had surprised him too. But the truth was, as he had laid breathing his last next to his friend, he had only felt… empty. Unfulfilled. He had challenged the mightiest warrior in all of creation, pushed her beyond her mighty limits, achieved his heart’s desire… and had died feeling only like he had somehow missed the point of it all. Arashi had finally finished coughing up her coffee and cleaning up her mess. It was strange, seeing such an unguarded side of her. Strange to see her out of her usual armour as well. Like looking through a soldier’s belongings and finding a pair of knitting needles. How much of you have I never seen, my friend? What joys have you known outside of battle? How have you managed to find them?

Arashi looked at the man in front of her in disbelief. Zenos bloody Galvus, monster of the empire, hunter of the Warrior of Light to the literal end of existence, was tired of war? It was laughable beyond belief. A cruel joke from a crueller man. And yet, watching from the shadows, using all of her sister’s hard-taught lessons, she had seen the truth in it. Seen him choosing a path without violence, seen him learning how to nurture and grow instead of maiming and slaying. Perhaps it was all an act for her benefit. But she suspected not.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” The words were appraising, an undercurrent of curiosity and hope inextricably tied together. She wanted to believe, deep down. Zenos couldn’t help but look at the blade between them. The blade she had used to do battle with him. Spattered with coffee now, rather than blood. But no less dangerous for it. She could have cut him down in an instant.

“I am. I know not what I am, truly. Some echo of the man I used to be, perhaps. His last regrets given form. Or perhaps I am myself entire, given an undeserved last chance. I embraced the role of a monster wholeheartedly, threw myself into the role without regret, and yet now I find myself here questioning the point of the whole insipid play. I, who wrote its words with blood and fire.” He couldn’t meet her eyes even with the helmet protecting his gaze. It didn’t feel right.

“Let me ask you a question in turn. You surely knew who I was before confronting me. I made no effort to disguise my observations, nor to mask myself as you watched me in turn. Yet you have not cut me down. I am certain that you still wish to do so, or else you would not have come armed as you are. Why have you not done so?”

It was a question Arashi knew was coming, but she still found herself unable to answer it. Was it that she wanted to believe even he could change his ways? Was she curious to know what had stayed his hand from continuing their contest? Those may have been part of it, but…

“I suppose I’m tired too, in the end.” The words felt right as they left her mouth. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder expecting to see you there. I’m tired of trying to prepare any countermeasure I can for when you come for my loved ones. I’m tired of sleepless nights spent wondering if I’ll walk away from our next battle or not. I’m tired of the play. I wanted to know if you were too.”

Zenos nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. It was a terrifying thing to put away his role after so long, but it felt necessary; vital, even. He knew not how long he had left to toil amongst the stars, but he knew with certainty that he could only do so by letting go of what he was. All of it, the whirling passion and the crushing boredom and the singular, incandescent spark that had driven him to such a wildfire of damnation. It was terrifying, truth be told. But he had never felt so free in doing so.

Arashi was silent for a long moment. Then, incredibly, she smiled. At him, her greatest enemy, his only friend. “That’s what I was hoping for.” She placed her mug on the table between them, sitting next to her massive blade in a ridiculous manner. Her hand was outstretched. “Let’s shake on it, then. You give up your little crusade and I don’t put you in a shallow grave.”

Zenos chuckled, gloved hand meeting Arashi’s as they sealed the deal. It was an impossible dream, setting aside his only joy in life in a desperate pursuit of other, simpler pleasures. His true self would have railed against such a thing, fought with gnashing teeth and ripping claw until all that he had left was unmade as well. But he wasn’t that man. He was… not an echo, for an echo could only repeat the voice of its source. But something else. Something new.

They spoke for a while, of the cafe, of the harvest, of the clutch of dragon eggs and the recent hatchlings. Of all manner of unspeakably tedious things. It was… nice to enjoy such base things. How strange that he had never realised it before. Finally, Arashi made to stand, empty cup and neatly cleaned sword held in each hand.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” she said, trying and failing to hide the smile in her eyes. “Keep this up, Zenos. You’re almost pleasant company.” And then she was gone, vanishing in a casual pulse of aether and leaving him alone amongst the stars again.

Zenos would not last forever. A lingering echo will eventually fade to nothing. But the time he had left he spent working with his fellow lost souls. Forging bonds. Making friends. Finally seeing, after so much time, the true value of it all. And when at last he let go and joined whatever was left of him in the aetherial sea, he found himself content. And Arashi, watching him go, felt something she never thought she would feel for the monster.

Grief.

[eorzeanflowers]

FFXIV WRITE 2023 Prompt 3: Free Prompt - Sisters

(Characters: Linneas, Deta and Pola L’rae, Timeframe: Post Calamity)

Pola pulled their sister up the cliff face, their muscles groaning with exhaustion. The trek they had made so far was a long one, over many mountains in Albathia’s Spine. The sister’s armor clinking in the cold mountain air, Pola let out a long sigh. Deta turned her head to the side inquisitively, waiting for her sister to say what was bothering them. Pola just gestured outward towards the path they had just trekked.

Deta smiled, her hand covering her mouth. Opening her eyes again, she unshouldered the pack of supplies and went to take Pola’s pack off for them. Pola acquiesced, laying down on her back to rest their shoulders. Deta looked at the simple supplies and stifled a giggle. It was still strange, all these years later, the lack of technology like their home shard in this realm. It was so… Rustic. Deta stared around in delight at the mountainscape before them, basking in the setting sun. The sun had long been shuttered on their shard, the Astral aspect of all its aether forming a clouded barrier long before Pola and her sister had been born.

Pola started to grumble under their breath as they started to gather small rocks to serve for their campfire. The mountain outcropping they found themselves on proved to have many suitable for that task. When they returned, the nouliths carrying the small bundle dropped them in a heap before returning to her side. Pola then carefully arranged them in a circle and started to get the pot out of their pack.

Deta tumbled the kindling from her pack in the center, and with a whisper and her blade’s focus set the kindling ablaze. She then pulled out the preserved meats and shriveling vegetables out of Pola’s pack. As Pola carefully set the pot hanging from a single noulith, Deta filled it with a spell of water. As she waited for it to boil, she picked out the bits of food that were to be thrown in, chopping up the vegetables on the small board her sister had laid to the side. Pola then went to Deta’s pack and started to unroll the cloth mats they had for sleeping. Blankets were stacked to the side and the pillows were fluffed. Another sigh escaped their lips as then just collapsed on one and was immediately dozing.

Deta looked up after finishing chopping to see her sister fast asleep in her armor. She chuckled softly, going to the now boiling pot and dropping in all the prepped ingredients. She tapped her focus again, activating its menu. Picking a soft song for it to play, she took off her own armor, setting it next to her sleeping mat. Keeping an eye on the cooking stew, she set upon Pola and gently removed each piece of armor. Deta smiled as her sister sleepily tried to stop her gauntlets from being removed, but with a firm grip Deta managed to remove them.

The stew now finished, Deta poured out portions for each of them, then set Pola’s near her head. Blowing on her own, Deta wasn’t surprised Pola was still asleep. Pola was the muscle of the two, thus they led the way through the mountains. Deta contentedly sighed, slowly savoring her cooking. The sun now fully set, darkness was all around them. The only light that of the grand moon and their fire pit. Deta thought on the beauty of the realm once again, so much yet to see and hear. She couldn’t help but be excited! Pola likely had other ideas, but Deta was a bit of a romantic. Her stew quickly finished, she set upon doling out the remaining bits into containers to keep for the following days. 

Laying down next to her sister, she couldn’t ask for a better place to be… Or a better life to live. She was sure, even with their grumbling, her sister thought the same. With that thought in her mind, she drifted into easy sleep.

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Hiya! Thank you so much for all the work you put into organising FFXIVwrite, it’s my first year taking part and it’s been a lot of fun so far 💃 This is a sheer curiosity question, but how do you go about choosing what prompts to give? Do you have a particular system or is it just a matter of vibes?

Ooo, another fun one!

I take a couple of things into consideration when choosing prompts, as well as choosing what order to schedule them in:

MSQ - I tend to keep my working list of prompts up as I play through the the most recent FFxiv MSQ patches for any inspiring words that pop up in dialog. Our Lady Y'shtola provides many, it seems. 🙏 She loves those big words. Then I think about what happens in recent MSQ patch stories and do my best to organize prompts that could lend themselves to an MSQ story thread for those folks who like to write a continuous story from prompt to prompt, but without being so on the nose that it takes away from the experience for folks who prefer to write one-offs per prompt.

Homonyms - Words that have multiple meanings are my favorite for this challenge since they allow for the broadest foundation for interpretation of the prompt.

Big Words - I like to toss in some chonky big-brained words as well so that we (myself included) have a fun word that we've likely not heard before to work with.

American English Idioms - I usually choose 4 of these per challenge, most often on the day following a make-up/free day. Just a different prompt format to mix things up a bit.

Prompts are meant to provide a jumping off point for inspiration that can be as literal or removed from the prompt itself as each writer would like.

And, they can be written to in any language! So if english is not your first language, feel free to write in your first language if that's more comfortable for you.

[midnightmagicks]

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Day 8: Free Day (Spontaneous)

Spontaneous: performed or occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus.

Warm firelight danced across the length of the somehow cozy ishgardian inn room. This room was more like a small apartment nowadays; The occupant practically renting the room permanently. Another nearly permanent fixture of this particular room sat in his usual spot nearest the fireplace, curled up in a large cushioned chair. 

While the owner of the inn room was out currently, E’mal waited patiently within for his no doubt speedy return. Hopefully speedy, given everything that had occurred this choice day. On a normal occasion, E’mal would busy himself with either a book or perhaps a knitting project to pass the time. It wasn’t uncommon for the other to take care of a task or job before retiring for the evening. However, his mind right now would not allow for that kind of focus. So the small Rava, curled comfortably on his side, gazed at a new piece of jewelry that graced his hand.  His left hand, to be precise.

The ring was breathtaking. A beautiful plant-like filigree adorned with small diamonds and pearls that wove to the centerpiece; A violet gemstone array in the shape of a flower. He hadn’t been able to stop staring at it since Ezekiel had slipped it onto his finger. He could feel his cheeks flush once again as he giggled to himself, pulling his hand to his chest in pure glee. 

He was taken completely unaware by the proposal. He knew Ezekiel very well by this point, he’d say. The man was not one to take spontaneous action. So this came as an even greater surprise, in his eyes. He had fully and completely not expected this. How had he missed Ezekiel planning something so important? When did the man find the time? 

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard him; Heavy boots combined with subtly metallic clangs. The knob of the door turned and E’mal sat up straight, staring towards the figure entering the door with a bright smile. He hopped from his seat, tail wiggling happily as he nearly bounced his way to the door to greet his new fiancé.

Mentions @bloodredhands :) This is a sufficient way to announce that Gay Bunnies are getting married in game, right?

[crystal-verse]

Day 15 - Parent

[an echo/parallel of day 8's entry, referencing day 11's entry]

It takes time, to find time, once things have settled and everything is being dealt with. But this is an important topic, this is something that Raha should have told Lyna before, but he had not. (Because he is afraid, because he has only just told the truth of his name and heritage to her, because what if this secret is one too many--)

Still. Raha makes time, and though their heart beats in anxiety they must see this done. A simple conversation cannot be so terrifying as preparing to sacrifice oneself for the sake of the world, after all. So Raha sits, and invites Lyna to listen, and simply. . . speaks. It is more meandering than the pointed questions and answers that had taken place some fortnight ago, but even still, it is. . . oddly freeing. To confess the true nature of Lyna's parentage, to confess Raha's relationship with her parents, to explain how 'tis his blood, partly, in her veins. (How she is, by fortune or otherwise, spared from being tied to Allag the same way that Raha has been. How Raha's own Viera blood contributed to Lyna looking purely Viis.)

When he is done, it is silent for some while. Lyna struggles, for a few moments, to find words. "Why did you never tell me? Why pretend to be my grandfather, if you were truly. . .?"

"I. . ." Raha exhales a shuddering breath, and wrings his hands. A nervous tic, making itself present again. "Your parents had been the ones meant to raise you. Regardless of our closeness, they were to be your parents, legally and otherwise. Perhaps I could have been a third, but they. . . 'twas they who were meant to raise you." Their ears droop, fall flat upon their head. The next words are -- rough, unpolished, and Raha cannot be certain that they convey what they need to, but they try nonetheless. "I did not. . wish to take from you, the knowledge of your parents, nor the right for them to be your parents. I did not wish to steal that from them. And. . ." He looks up at Lyna, sitting in front of him, then back down as his hands, where the keratin claws scrape against the crystal. "'Twas easier, to be a grandfather in name, than a parent. It did not. . . risk bringing forth questions that I would not know how to answer, without betraying Dulna and Vaimet's trust and privacy."

"You have been more a father to me than a grandfather, all these years, regardless of what I called you." Lyna points out. Her voice is -- wavering, but firms towards the end of the sentence. Raha cannot tell what emotion she is feeling.

". . . Yes, I know." They say, softly. "Please, forgive me."

"For what?" Lyna's voice is steady and firm, now, as it has so often been, and Raha cannot help but look up to meet her eyes, in surprise. "You are the only parent I have ever known, and you have made great effort besides to tell me of my other parents." Her eyes soften, even as her voice does not. "You cannot replace someone I have never known, even if I should have known them."

Raha feels. . . fragile. Somehow, this conversation has led him to feel as if he may break, should he say something wrong. "Then. . . forgive me for lying to you, even out of omission." Forgive me for not being good enough. Forgive me for never telling you all of these things. Forgive me for keeping so many secrets. All the things Raha wishes they could say, but cannot, the words locked between their teeth.

"You do not need to ask for it, but if it shall ease your worries, then -- I forgive you." Lyna smiles, then, and lays a hand atop Raha's own. "I forgive you. . . Father."

Raha's voice is choked, now, by the tears pooling in his eyes. Words do not come for some moments, and Raha blinks heavily and wipes at his face before he can compose himself enough to speak, again. ". . . thank you." The words are soft, and seem so little to convey all the emotion that Raha means to impart with them, but --

Lyna gives him a far softer, fonder smile, and her hand grips Raha's flesh hand and squeezes, gently. "Of course."

It is enough. Discarding any sense of dignity or composure, Raha pulls Lyna into his arms, and holds her. A father holds their daughter, and for the first time in a long while, Raha lets themself be that. Lyna's father.

("Gra- father. . . if you are of royal blood, does this apply to myself, as well?"

"I distinctly remember asking you not to speak of the royal blood."

"You're not answering the question--")

[chocoblep]

#29: The Fruit Cart Debacle

Prompt: Free Day (Crash)

“It’s always the weirdest shit on these jobs,” Hinan murmured as he bent to pick up another banana and wipe the excess dirt off of it. He looked down at the unconscious man at his feet. Tossing the banana into its crate nearby, he picked up an entire bunch and did the same, clearing a little more space around the man so that he wouldn’t be stepping on any fruit when he maneuvered him into a sitting position in the back of the cart and tied him up. This petty fruit thief would be riding with the fruit he’d tried to thieve as far as the next town, where Hinan would drop him with the local authorities.

He’d nearly finished repacking the cart when the man groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He jerked against his bonds, nearly overturning the cart–again–as he tried enthusiastically to free himself. Hinan sat on the back of the cart, effectively keeping it in place and staring the man down until he stopped.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hinan said, polishing the last apple on his bicep before settling it with the other apples. “Say, what’s your name?”

The man tried to speak around the strip of cloth that had been shoved into his mouth and tied around his head, and Hinan laughed because it sounded decidedly like a muffled, “Fuck you.”

“Right, forgot. Gagged. Well, in that case, I’ll call you ‘Chop,’ because if you try any of that shit you pulled again, that’s what I’ll do to your hands. Got it?” he leaned closer to the man with an intentionally sinister smile, fixing his bright orange gaze on the other’s face. The man quieted immediately and nodded. “Great. Now that we understand each other, you’ll be dropped off with the Yellowjackets in the next town.”

 He moved to stand and signal to the driver to go again, and then sat back down on the back of the cart as it wobbled into motion. “Or should I call you ‘Burns’ instead?” he asked no one in particular, glancing over to see the man shaking his head with a horrified expression. “Honestly, overturning a fruit cart… What was going on in that melon of yours?” He looked over to the man and smiled. “Oh, right. Gagged. Guess this’ll be a one-sided conversation. Oh! I got it! ‘Peel!’ Thematically fitting.”

[idalenn]

Day 4 - Reticent

Worqor Zormor - Lillian and Alisaie switch up the plan to harry the Second Promise. (7.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred, Urianger

Full text below the cut

Quick as a lie, Lillian’s hand snapped away from her forehead and a golden cord yanked Alisaie whole into her grip.

“We’re changing the plan,” Lillian growled, twisting the younger girl around to get at the leather tube slung across her back. “Alisaie, you and Krile stay with Wuk Lamat, and I’ll head off the others at the pass instead.”

“What’s come over you,” the girl cried. “So. Suddenly?” Wrenching with all force in her Elezen frame, she tried to free herself to no avail. Lillian’s arms were muscle woven with steel.

“Thancred got the best of us. Heard all we – quit moving – intended. They’ll expect your harassment up ahead.” Her deft fingers slid around the tube’s hooks, undoing them one after another. So much easier without gloves, she thought. In short order the map was flapping in her hand. “But not mine.” Krile nodded, clarity writ plain on her face.

“The Echo. We’ll leave this to you, then.” She knocked their Hrothgar claimant across one hand with the dripping end of her brush. “Worqor Zormor awaits us, Third Promise. Our friend will rejoin us once she’s finished.”

Confusion reigned over Wuk Lamat’s own expression. “Does anyone care to enlighten me on this?”

“It must needs be later, I’m afraid. Just run for now. I’ll do my best to inform you of the basics on the way.”

“So it goes.” Wuk Lamat’s shoulders slipped with a heavy sigh. Beyond a protesting Alisaie, Lillian hurriedly crumpled the map into a long green pocket of her cape. “I bring you into my circle for help and you look to escape me at the first chance. Sometimes I think you just can’t toler-AH–” Wind took the rest of her words, loose earth and shards of rock showering the remaining party as Lillian raced off with its power at her back, yalms melting away with each stride.

 Up the path she went dodging around fallen stone outcroppings and growths of blue and violet crystal, the image of the Second Promise’s ascension on a column of air with Thancred and Urianger in tow still burned into her eyes. Not one soul in that damned town malms below had mentioned that was a possibility. Or perhaps her attention had fallen off at the wrong time in conversation and missed its passing mention in one of many grand tales she had been forced into hearing, some unexplainable act that had allowed the defeat of a rampaging beast like Valigarmanda. That was the irritating part about scholars like Koana; legends always held a grain of truth, and those learned as he always knew how to exploit those grains. Like as not down in the valley there existed some Sharlayan device he’d built capable of calling tempests to aid him.

Irritated, she slammed her staff into the mountain face and flooded it with aether. Juts of jagged, black stone ground out, dislodging flora that had lain root in the rock and birds that had found roost in the plants. Once extended enough for use, she bound up the cantilevered platforms, staff readied, its tip alight with pearlescent aether. One bird arrowed towards the Miqo’te, squawking complaint till light and petrichor found their mark, the smell of roast windkin filling Lillian’s mouth with water and nearly sending her feathered cap flying into the abyss. She almost shed a tear as the bird tumbled limp trailing feathers through the clouds.

After the last step, Lillian found herself on a mountain ledge flanked by a low rise of boulders and flowered moss. She drew out the time weathered map and flattened it on the ground, tsking at a tear she made in her haste to abscond. Wuk Lamat had been correct, but why waste time and confirm to the child claimant what she already knew? She was haughty, naïve, self-absorbed, and above all, a fool who believed Lillian’s actions took her well-being into consideration.

Were you not similar once, and did you not learn better? The voice of logic nagged. Quiet. Never so much as she, Lillian thought back, smoothing the spot Thancred pointed out to the Second Promise; a wide pass dotted with the ruins of ancient walls

“Alisaie plans to harry us here. She’s a quick-footed little pest, but we’ve battled alongside long enough for me to know exactly where her faults lie, and I’ve been itching for the opportunity to knock her down a peg or four. I’ll have her in bed without supper and you your victory before the Third Promise realizes she’s been made.”

We’ll see if you can manage the same against me, she thought, stuffing the map back down, wind licking at her heels as she ran. Beastkin poked their soft, red noses from their dens as she passed and retreated just as quickly. Excitement made her ears unable to stay still. They beat a dangerous leather heartbeat against their coverings sewn into her cap. Her thoughts were smothered, but so were the land’s whispers.

The ruins were a short jaunt away. There, the ground was soft and pocketed with fist-width craters filled with tepid water. Vegetation grew verdant from the civilization’s desiccated corpse to cover the bones in green embrace.

There it was. Along the path to the mountain’s summit, a towering stone barrier stood solemn. Dutiful. For a Miqo’te clad in forest colors: easily concealed behind. Some great hand had torn a hole through its skin and left a passage from ruin to path providing the perfect redoubt from which to utilize a White Mage’s magic against unwary passersby. Lillian sprinted across the sodden field, her mind bursting with all the possibilities to slow down her opponents.

As she reached the hole, a white blur faded into the open space.

A reticent blur of white absent of sound, of tension, of presence and definition. The pressure of existence swelled gradually with each fifth of moment. Her brain fired desperately on every available detail.

Bulk; clothing; the jangling of canisters; his interwoven bandolier; plant musk hiding his scent.

Thancred?

Who could claim the greater surprise? Not he, who knew of a coming. Not her, who knew of an arriving.

But if anything, he didn’t appear surprised at all. In fact, he was even –

Smiling?

A strong, hardened jaw stared back at her, yellow teeth glinting from a light growing –

From below?

A tickle started in her brain. Understanding came before the knowing.

Water flew into her hand from the puddle below before growing outward in a blue, glass-thin sheen in the path of the gunblade’s edge, hardening into a shield faster than the blooming muzzle flash. The explosion sent her flying back in a trail of dust and smoke. Powder smell filled her nose. Her ears rang with a cannon blast. Wind gathered thick around in a shroud of green aether to carry her from danger, willing herself to land upright on stable ground.

But as she did, a sigil circled with arcane letters expanded across the stone.

Rolling in the air, her hand wreathed in blinding green tore across the space as a wave of wind struck her full in the side mere ilms from the sigil, lifting the Warrior of Light to send her tumbling bodily across the ground and out of the way of harm as the sigil vanished in a thunderclap of dust and heat. Coughing up more dust caught in her throat, she turned blazing yellow eyes to the cloud of soot obscuring her would-be assailants.

“Bastards… the both of you.” She rose on shaking legs. Shards of broken stone had ripped tears in the cloth of her garb. Blood sheathed from a deep, muddy cut on her arm, but nothing else felt broken.

“Come now, we’re all friends here, and what’s a scuffle between friends.”

Thancred sauntered out from the debris, a shite-eating grin ballooning across his handsome features. Following suit with a light chuckle was Urianger, his astrometer spinning at the ready with cards prepped for reading.

“Our comrade believeth her hand superior to thine own.”

“Count yourself lucky that Alisaie hadn’t been the one around that corner.” Lillian spat a globule of saliva laced with red. “You might have killed her.”

“And I would have been eternally guilty for the act, make no mistake.” Somehow Thancred’s smile grew wider. “But, thankfully, no luck was necessary. You came around just as I had planned.”

“Planned? Ha!” Lillian tossed back her head to laugh. The movement made her wince. “Unless one of you can divine the future, my being here is all luck. And where has the Second Promise gone?”

“Ahead,” Thancred said.

“Thou would beggar of us an explanation?”

“Please. I’m all ears – hold…” She held up a finger hazy with radiant white and plunged the digit into her ringing ear. As the aether healed the damage from Thancred’s attack, the plants around her feet withered into brown husks and crumbled to join the dirt. “Apologies – Now I’m all ears.”

“Your Echo.” Thancred wore the face of a child swimming in an ocean of unwrapped candies. At Lillian’s widened eyes, he continued. “A most useful tool in our adventures, being allowed to witness past events as they occurred. But only as they occurred.”

“Of strength in sight does it boast, yet Master Thancred, awash in inspiration and long accustomed, privy to thine Echo’s potency, hath discovered the flaw in its making.” He held a hand to his lips and laughed lightly. Lightly and restrained. “Deceived we were, as means to deceive you.”

Lillian shook her head. “Somehow I believe this is just some trick to keep me here.”

“Oh, you were tricked, all right. Now your turn comes – what did the Echo show?”

“And why would I tell you?”

“You saw us discussing plans with Koana; plans to ambush Alisaie; plans in which I spoke of knocking her down a peg or four? You witness events exactly as they occur, so once we witnessed you succumb to the Echo’s effects…” Thancred placed a hand to his forehead.

“Into the fold were the Second Promise and I giveth allowance, and a trap thus lain for our dearest friend.”

Thancred’s fingers drummed along the gunblade’s handle. “Do pass on my thanks to Alisaie. Had it not been for her plot on Ultima Thule confirming you’ve density common with archon loaf, this endeavor may not have been as fruitful as hoped.”

The skin under Lillian’s left eye began to quiver. White aether burst at her wounded arm as the dirt crumbled into fine powder under her boots. “I hope you realize what you’ve earned.” Her words came out as a low hiss, the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.

“A prize, I wager! And a prize Urianger and I have wished so long to taste.”

“Indeed. We bringeth all our might to bear, that we may witness might worthy of song and notoriety, what bringeth even eikons to heel.”

With a malicious cacophony, like to an endless sea of keening glass, from Lillian’s back spread opalescent wings of aether aflame, size and ferocity swelling until she was rendered a silhouette before their crescendo. Sensation of needles prickled against the Scions’ skin, and the myriad wounds below notice across her flesh steamed forth white clouds until hale and closed.

“Try not to choke on it.”

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Master Post

Total Word Count: 37,168 Longest Story: Devastation/Windmill/Curse @ 3,248 Top Posts of 2024 (Sept 30)Tumblr: Halycon AO3: Telling Top Posts of All FFXIV Writes (Sept 30 2024) Tumblr: Missed the Boat AO3: Nuzzle

*Indicates that the story takes place during that Expansion's timeline but otherwise spoiler free.

Day 1 (Shb): Steer Day 2 (DT): Horizon Day 3 (DT): Tempest Day 4 (DT): Reticent Day 5 (EW): Stamp Day 6: (DT): Halcyon Day 7: (EW): Morsel Day 8: (EW)*: Wedding Vows Day 9: (DT) Lend an Ear Day 10: (EW) Stable Day 11: (DT) Surrogate Day 12: (EW) Quarry Day 13: (EW) Butte Day 14: (EW) Telling Day 15: (EW) Misdirection Day 16: (EW) Third-Rate Day 17: (EW)* Sally Day 18: (EW)* Hackneyed Day 19: (EW) Taken Day 20: (EW)* Duel Day 21: (DT) Shade Day 22: (DT) Convergence Day 23: (DT) On Cloud Nine Day 24: (DT)* Bar Day 25: (EW) Perpetuity Day 26: (EW)* Zip Day 27: (EW)* Memory Day 28: (DT) Deleterious Day 29: (EW)* Devastation/Windmill/Curse Day 30: (DT) Two Heads Are Better Than One

Below is my calendar of blorbos! My goal this year was to not let the blorobs touch to ensure I spread my attention around! Archon symbol is for vignettes. Azem symbol is for my WOL Trio.