#ffxivwrite2021 day 12

[autumnslance]

Soon...

In FFXIVWrite2020, I wrote a prompt near the end about a secret Alberic kept, concerning my WoL, Aeryn's, past. In FFXIVWrite2021, I ended up writing quite a few more prompts about that, creating a story about Corran Striker's actions, what Alberic did and why, and the dragon at the center of it all, an ancient red named Avengret.

I've finally gotten a draft more or less hammered out; re-ordering, revising, adding, removing, and shuffling the original prompts into an actual (I hope) story. I'll be posting to Ao3 every few days, with notifications here on Tumblr (and probably other places).

In the meantime, the initial prompts in their original versions and order for perusal (and for me to see how very much I've done with this...). Set in that nebulous time between the very end of Shadowbringers and the start of Endwalker, there might be some random out of context spoilers for sprouts not through those expansions yet.

1. Paternal - X’rhun discovers a past truth Alberic keeps hidden. 2. Aberrant - Backstory; Corran Striker starts his doomed path. 3. Scale - Backstory; more of Corran’s heretical history. 4. Baleful - Keeping the Warrior of Light out of trouble is tough. 5. Passion - Corran & Emelia’s spicy followup to “Aberrant” 6. Speculate - Backstory, Ser Alberic Bale seeing through a promise. 7. Friable - Backstory. Vignettes of Emelia’s POV over time. 8. Heady - A reason Alberic feared Aeryn meeting Avengret. 9. Preaching to the Choir - Brotherly understanding after “Heady.” 10. Strained - Immediate follow up to "Preaching", more Estinien. 11. Thunderous - Aeryn finally Echoes That Moment from Alberic. 12. Devil’s Advocate - Plans to deal with Avengret are debated. 13. Soul - Aeryn has concerns about Alberic versus Avengret. 14. Bow - The team attempts their plan against Avengret.

[apowersodivine]

#FFXIVWrite2021 Day 12//Our Blood Will Stay

Content/trigger warning for blood, violence, and death.

??? Years ago

Prisca stood in a line with nine other people who lived in the facility. Each was completely different from the next. Different races. Different colorings. Different heights and sizes. Different augmentations.

Prisca stood as straight as she possibly could, her arms tucked behind her back. And the others did as well. They did as they were ordered, after all.

They were to be paired off and whittled down to half their number by fights to the death. A higher up decided too much time, effort, and resources were being put into these experiments. Or perhaps that better “applicants” could be added. Or maybe both. It wasn’t up to Prisca to think too hard on or question. She had only one goal: stay alive.

She watched, unmoving, as the first four were paired up, not even flinching when four fell before her, or when their blood splattered at and across her bare feet. They all had no shoes on their feet, and all only wore flimsy white shirts and pants. Better to show the blood, it seemed.

After what seemed like forever, it was Prisca’s turn. Prisca and a young, lanky raen man with clay-colored skin and stark white hair, a predatory grin on his face. Oh, right. She had seen him around. He was the one with the-- 

She looked down at his arms. Metal jutted out the sides of his forearms, bending after only an ilm or two and forming into double sided, barbed blades. Most people would think how dangerous they looked. Prisca could only wonder what the scientists were thinking. I guess they were all called experiments for a reason.

Prisca, the small girl that she was, didn’t balk in the presence of this older, taller person. She got into position, her clawed hands held out before her, one foot behind the other. There were no pleasantries or really any rules at all. So not long after she got positioned, the man shot at her.

A long leg was sent at her, and she easily ducked down. The raen sent his elbow downward toward Prisca, trying to slice her, but she slid away from him easily enough and sliced right back at his arm with her claws, opening four lines across it. He hissed and grabbed her by the arm, throwing her in his anger.

She struck the metal flooring pretty hard and rolled a few times before dragging her claws across the floor, sending sparks flying and helping her come to a stop. With her unnaturally strong and nimble legs, she sprung back to her feet and charged back in, swiping and slicing at the young man. He held his arms up after dodging backward a couple of steps, once more getting his arms sliced open, blood seeping out and dripping onto the floor.

His anger overcoming him again, he threw one of his arms outward at her, one of the barbs biting into her like a coeurl’s claw. She had to push his arm away to get it out, but that only damaged her flesh more, her teeth clenching. 

He saw the pain clearly on her face and it made him overconfident. He reached out carelessly with one hand, as if to grab her by the scruff of the neck like she was a naughty puppy. She simply ducked down again, and with one fluid motion of her straight-fingered hand, opened up a line across his throat. He gasped wetly and reached up to grab at his throat, stumbling back as blood bubbled up from between his fingers and ran down in thick rivers down his chest.

Prisca, panting a bit, looked at him, and then over at the other experiments. The scientists. The officers. They all watched on with a cold detachment, the scientists taking notes.

And then she found that she herself felt nothing for the person who was taking his last breaths while sprawled out on the slippery floor. Why didn’t she feel anything? Didn’t she feel something before?

She set a hand against her chest, feeling for her heartbeat as she was taken by the arm and led silently from the room.

(For my character prisca.carrd.co)

[chocoblep]

#12: A Catch

It was difficult, pretending to be put together all the time. That was why Qorin had learned early into his healing career to compartmentalize, and shoved all unnecessary emotions out of his head when it came to healing. But sometimes they peeked their proverbial heads out of the box, and it was during those times when the struggle to remain professional was incredibly hard.

“... And then I told ‘im that if ‘e wanted me t’stay, ‘e’d shore up an’ get clean.” The Hyur woman was chatty, as was her wont, and Qorin had tuned her out halfway through her story as he worked on her broken leg. This particular patient was one he’d seen a few times, and she was always chatty.

“Hold that thought. This is going to hurt for a moment, and then it’s going to itch like crazy, but it’ll be over in less than a minute,” he interrupted, looking up at her. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he moved some of her aether just before setting the bone. That was the quick part, and the most painful. She grunted, and then clenched her jaw as he coaxed blood to the problem spot and manipulated her aether to knit bone back together. After the hard part was over and Qorin moved to give it a bit of extra stability, the woman continued.

“So anyway, ‘e’s been clean for a whole turn an’ last night ‘e proposed! I was so excited t’ tell m’ sister that I took a tumble down th’ stairs from goin’ too fast, an’ tha’s how I ended up here.” She shoved her hand out, a pretty little engagement ring glinting in the light.

Qorin looked with a smile up once he finished wrapping her leg. “That’s great, Ida! I’m happy for you! Will you be getting married soon?”

“Oh, no, tha’s not fer a while yet. Haven’t even started plannin’,” she replied, and then looked at the small Xaela, consideration on her face. “How ‘bout you? Somebody snatched ya up yet? Oh, I bet they ‘ave.”

Laughing softly, Qorin helped her to her feet. “Put some weight on that, but not too much! Just want to test your pain level and how stable it feels. And yes, someone has snatched me up. Another Xaela, and they’re wonderful.”

Ida tested her leg and then hummed approvingly. “Feels pretty solid just standin’ here,” she affirmed. “They from your tribe?”

“Oh, Heavens, no! They’re an Ejinn,” he replied.

“Them the horse trainers?” she asked, shaking her head. “I always forget what tribe does what.”

“Ah, no. The ones known for training the finest horses are the Noykin. The Ejinn are a water tribe. They swim everywhere, and they can hold their breath for a very long time. Excellent fishers, too.” He kept his hands on either side of her arms as she tested the leg again, this time taking a small step.

“Yup. Solid.” She looked down at him and grinned. “So they fished ya up, huh?”

Qorin blinked at the woman and then laughed, his cheeks darkening a bit. “I guess so!”

“Well, you’re a once in a lifetime catch, Doctor Q. Make sure they treat ya tha’ way, aye?”

“I’ll try my best,” he affirmed, and then shifted back into healer mode. “Now, I want you to go easy on that leg. Most of it’s healed, but your body needs to do the rest. Give it a couple weeks before you go running down the stairs again.”

“Will do!” she said, walking off with little trouble.

As he watched her go, he smiled. Am I the catch of a lifetime? He asked himself silently before moving to return supplies to their box. He thought about this for a moment before smiling.

“I am.”

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV|21-12, Free Prompt/Extra Credit: Ambivalence. Sonorous River.)

((Thanks to @knight-in-voeburt​ , aka The Artist Formerly Known As Oberic Who Is Now Trineaux, for the word!)) When he spoke to the thousand-thousand gods, did they listen? Did they take all the songs he’d dedicated to them as their tithe, beloved and played amongst themselves for all eternity?

His mother had always told them they did, painting pictures of the Unnamed Divinities in the spaces between the stars. Tricksters, lovers, warriors, artisans. Mothers and daughters of high places and soothing glens, fathers and sons of the fiery below from which his people were forged.

River was a collector of stories, a rolling stone that managed to gather all kinds of moss. He’d learned that other places had their own such gods; they inhabited everything or nothing, depending on the place. In others, the gods were coalesced into many faceted, larger gods, made into leaves on a great, spreading tree.

He had a lover, once, that laughed at his devotions. Her ambivalence towards their shared gods, her desire to love them and yet her revulsion towards what she saw as their negligence, was a strange thing to him. He’d never considered their absence, their likeness to primals, their magicks as explainable natural phenomena. To him, they were as real as the ground below his feet, the weight of his jacket on his broad shoulders.

River understood, though. When one isn’t favored by the gods, one tends to turn away from them. For his part, though he questioned them, he still made his prayers whenever he passed a place that seemed to whisper of their presence. The Hellsguard felt the prayers answered when he left, the faint stirrings of a new ballad tickling the edges of his mind. For him, that was enough.

[memoriesofivalice]

Freefall (free day)

I can feel a sucking of the air all around me, my body aching from just the expense of power.  It was supposed to be an easy trip, a quick turn around and back home before we knew it.  It was her first trip away from home.

Now it seems it would my last.

Thunder explodes about the airship as the sky turns black above us, my arms wrap about her as I hold her close as she grabs a hold of me to steady ourselves against the sudden onslaught of the elements.  I am terrified as I look about the crew yelling out to batten down the hatches or tie this or that off, I don't know I'm not a sailor.  But I am a brother and my sister needs me.

"Kino, I'm scared," she whispers below me as I hold her tight as the ship begins to sway more.  We have gone below by this point and positioned ourselves near the hull of the galley.  There are other passengers as well, some whispering prayers while others look to ceiling for some word of hope from the crew.  There is only the wind.

I tell her it will be okay.  I tell her to calm down.  I tell her to think of home.

There are people crying now, a huge thunderclap rattles the walls and raising a cry among passengers, the time for rational is failing as a few are rising to leave the galley.

She's buried her face in my chest again, I can feel tears falls against my skin as I try to calm her.  I hum, I speak of home, I stroke her black scales in hopes of her relaxing.  

Another roll of thunder, the ship feels like it's going to flip over as I watch cutlery smash to pieces.  I crouch to the floor using my body to protect my sister.  She grows still.

Had she fainted?  Did she get struck by something?  Panic has gripped me as I pull her from my own black scaled chest as I peer down at her.

Her eyes are closed.  She's barely breathing.  She fainted?

"Oplisca?"

The eyes open again.  They're violet.  They are not my sisters eyes.

"Oplisca."

I reach a shaky hand out to her face as she raises her own to grab my hand, my hand wrapped by hers but it was not the same grip.  There is a strength she has never had here.  Who is this?

"Op-"

She cuts me off as she looks deep into my eyes, a pull following as her hand tightens more about mine.  I can't breathe.

"Peace.  Peace is the only answer.  Look into it and see the truth."  The voice is the same.  The words are wrong.  This is not my sister.

"Where is my sister?"

"At peace.  We will all be at peace."  The scent of ozone fills the air, the world thick with energy as I feel the ripping tendrils of aether begin to warp about me and those remaining in the cabin.  It's a spell obviously, but it's too much.  And it's not right for her.  I have to break free.  I have to get away.

The eyes have me.  The eye has me.

KINOWIN.

"No!"  With my free hand I pull away from her and shove the creature from me, she rolls away with a feral ease and stands again.  Her hands raised as a strange cracked smile comes to her face.  I watch in horror as the once lustrous black scales that matched my own begin to drain of color and bleach like bone in the sun.  Mouth agape I see the last vestiges of my sister disappear in a melting puddle of black oil that had been our birthright.  I feel sick.  And then the lightning comes and my world is a flash of light followed by an explosion of sound.

Pain is all around me.  The wind is in my ears.  I'm falling.  I'm hurt.  A rank smell of awful fills my nostrils despite the open sky about me.  I want to open my eyes look at my surroundings but I can't.  

I'm so tired.  

Everything hurts.

There's fire in the sky.

[karoiseka]

FFXIVWrite2021 Master List

Welp, I got another year fully done, all 31 entries.

Yes, I’m proud that I did, despite feeling like from the first week I was running a loosing battle in time and... talent.  I’m glad I got these out, glad I got things written, and new things figured out.  I do really like several of these, so I’m not all down on myself about it.  I was basically out of spoons as I finished the month, and probably should have just let it be, but I was being stubborn.  I do hope that those that read, enjoyed.  Thank you again to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for hosting such an amazing list once more!!  I do look forward to this!!  

Already posted to AO3 HERE! 

Soul Memories:

1) Foster:  Pre-Calamity, Karo meets Seirlait and Feophaux

2) Aberrant: 5.3 Spoilers for Kar’azem Story

3) Scale: Late base ARR, Karo has some insecurities.

4) Baleful: 5.55 Technically with a small reference, Karo and Tataru silliness

5) Free Day 1: 5.0 Spoilers, Rak’tika-ish timeframe.

6) Avatar:  5.3 Spoilers for Kar’azem, MSQ is second major solo duty in SB

7) Speculate: 2.5-ish Spoilers.  A now-deleted MSQ mini-questline! Karo/Tataru

8) Adroit: 5.3 Spoilers.  Karo/G’raha shippy lemony goodness

9) Friable: 5.0-5.1 Spoilers.  Karo/G’raha shippy softness

10) Heady: Late HW Spoilers, Karo/Thancred firsts and softness

11) Preaching to the Choir:  5.0 generic spoilers.  Karo and Ardbert

12) Free Day 2: 5.0 generic spoilers, Karo and Ardbert

13) Oneirophrenia: Karo at the Calamity

14) Commend: 5.3 Spoilers for Kar’a, Hythlodaeus and Hades

15) Thunderous: 5.0 Spoiler (generic) for Thancred x Karo Song lyrics!

16) Crane: 2.1-ish, Karo with Urianger, teasing about backstory

17) Destruct: No real time frame, poor Karo in the kitchen.

18) Devil’s Advocate: 5.0 Spoilers, Karo and Ardbert in Amaurot

19) Free Day 3: 4.0 Spoilers, Karo and Hien bonding (special guest Lyse)

20) Petrichor: 5.3 Spoilers for more than just Kar’a and Convocation talk

21) Feckless: Pre-Cal Karo family!

22) Fluster: Late HW, Tataru teasing Karo after #10 Heady!

23) Soul:  5.3 Spoilers, Karo and her crystal(s)

24) Illustrious:  5.3 Spoilers for Kar’a, Final Days

25) Silver Lining:  5.3 Technically mild spoilers, Karo unwraps and old gift

26) Free Day 4:  5.1 Spoilers, Karo reflecting on Gaius

27) Benthos:  4.0, Karo freaking out Hien and Lyse to the rescue

28) Bow: 4.0 Spoilers, Seirlait still finds a way to take care of his girl

29) Debonair: 3.2-3ish Spoilers, Karo gets surprised

30) Abstracted: 5.55 Spoilers, Karo and the Scions at home

31) Free Day 5: Late ARR, attempted poetry once more

Stats and some more commentary under the cut!

I actually somehow wrote almost 600 more words this year than last, though I swore I only wrote half as much.  I think my favorites were Heady, Oneirophrenia, Avatar, Illustrious, and Silver Lining all for different reasons.  I had quite the little sappy set up there in the beginning of the second week, and kinda went a bit more angsty for the rest.  I did... notice this and attempted some happier stuff near the end.  I wrote most of this at work, or super late at night, and probably pushed myself a bit more than I should have.

The shortest was the last one, the poetry of course at only 57 Words.

Longest was Heady at 1630

I really liked talking about Karo’s dads, and I do have... reunion setting and ideas in my head, but I kinda need Endwalker to come out so I have the proper lore setting without messing anything up (or time) because I do like to stick mainly to the big plot points/timeframes even if I take some liberties.

I also wanna give a little mini-shout out to the Writer’s Lounge of @onyrica​’s Discord, and three of the best cheerleaders I could have asked for: @autumnslance​ , @elveny​, and @sami-at-ciela​ .  I think some of the comments you left me there are honestly what kept me going this month, and I truly appreciate it with all my heart.   THANK YOU.

[thevoilinauttheory]

FFXIVWRITE2021 RECAP MASTERLIST

[ It’s been a month you guys! Wow, I was actually scared for a moment that I couldn’t be able to keep up - and I know the quality of my work started to hit the fan towards the end due to some medical complications. But looking back on the past FFXIVWrite challenges, I want to say that I’ve definitely improved! It was so fun to get to know your characters a little more, and even get to know new ones along the way too!! Don’t mind me as I reblog literally everyone’s recaps as I come across them so that I may immerse myself in the prompts I missed! ]

[ Each title of the prompts are named after songs (with said songs linked in each prompt), because I love associating music with my writing! Also I’m really bad at titles lol. Even if the prompt may not be for you, I highly recommend each song I’ve posted! It was really cool to see a lot of you jumping on the music bandwagon as well, because I love hearing what y’all like and what you associate with each piece or character! ]

[ Little notes! Characters listed will be my characters only, if there are NPCs or other characters, they won’t be listed here (unless the character belongs to another person). Content warnings are at the top of each prompt, please read them before reading the prompt, so that you don’t walk into anything you might not want to read. ]

==

Prompt #1 - Foster: First Day of My Life Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #2 - Aberrant: Fire Characters: Ashley Tucker

Prompt #3 - Scale: Our Own House Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #4 - Baleful: Long Way Down Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #5 - Extra Credit: Laughter Lines Characters: Ashley Tucker

Prompt #6 - Avatar: A Sky Full of Stars Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #7 - Speculate: Kill Your Heroes Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut (cameo: Lothaire Voilinaut)

Prompt #8 - Adroit: survivin’ Characters: Ashley Tucker

Prompt #9 - Friable: Magnum Bullets Characters: Kokhjin Qalli

Prompt #10 - Heady: Choke Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #11 - Preaching to the Choir: My Fault Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #12 - Extra Credit: Mercy Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #13 - Oneirophrenia: High Characters: Ashley Tucker

Prompt #14 - Commend: Good Grief Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #15 - Thunderous: My Body Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #16 - Crane: Black Water Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #17 - Destruct: Deconstruct Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #18 - Devil’s Advocate: Carried Away Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Mayve McRae

Prompt #19 - Extra Credit: Paper Heart Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #20 - Petrichor: Dirty Paws Characters: Liliah’to Zhwan

Prompt #21 - Feckless: Punching in a Dream Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #22 - Fluster: After School Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #23 - Soul: Soul Meets Body Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Lothaire Voilinaut

Prompt #24 - Illustrious: Winter Sound Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #25 - Silver Lining: The One Moment Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #26 - Extra Credit: The World at Large Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut (cameo: unnamed business partner)

Prompt #27 - Benthos: Electric Love Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

Prompt #28 - Bow: Holding On Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut

Prompt #29 - Debonair: The Funeral Characters: Cedrenaux Voilinaut

Prompt #30 - Abstracted: Northern Lights Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard

==

[ Here are links to the tags for the previous years prompts! ]

2020 2019 2017

[synchronmurmurs]

Prompt #12: Reunion (free day)

One more for FFXIVWrite2021! Today's a free pormpt day, so here I am with a quick and semi-dirty little thing before I go pass out for the night!

This focuses on Urianger's thoughts on his last encounter with Myra in the Source. Man's been yearning for three long, long years.

———

For her, it had only been perhaps several weeks at the most since she last saw him hale and whole. But for him, for Urianger, it had been three very long years. He never once doubted that she would come for she has always been a woman of stubborn conviction—an infuriating trait to some, and as a beacon to others—but he had never before felt a yearning as deep as what took hold of him during his tenure in the First, hoping with each day that someone, anyone, would come bearing news of the Warrior of Light's arrival. He yearned all the more that their final moment together back on the Source was cut so tragically, so frustratingly short. Their relationship—secretive as it was, tended to with great care since Gaius van Baelsar's fall, and having blossomed in full only recently—saw leaps and bounds, both forward and back, and it had taken the liberation of an entire city-state before either of them had done something about it.

It was a hasty affair; his hood was thrown back, his goggles pulled from his head with enough force that Urianger could have sworn she had snapped the band. But verbose as he is, the intellectual he prides himself on being, his precious words slipped from the forefront of his mind the moment her lips touched his.

And for him, inexperienced yet eager, oh so eager, it was a blur after that.

It was clothing being pulled up, open, off; it was the heat of her skin against his own; it was the weight of her hands, so compelling and commanding, forcing him back against some distant wall in the Waking Sands. Or was it a shelf? A table? Did she force him to sit before she climbed into his lap? He can't quite recall anymore. Not when his hands were preoccupied with learning the shape of her, feeling her muscles shift just beneath her skin with every movement she made against him. And gods was it all utterly electric. He was helpless in the face of her, just as everyone, and everything else was; swept away by tides he had no hope of controlling.

Within her storm, he would have willingly drowned.

But then came that damned communication via her linkpearl. He remembers how she'd looked when she pulled back from him, resting upon his thighs (ah, so he was in a chair then) with a look on her face that spelled murder. Yet with the pleasing glisten upon her kiss-swollen lips, the flush of passion that darkened her cheeks, the way she was out of breath (or merely huffing in annoyance), the effect was remarkably lessened. Duty called for her in Ala Mhigo, as much did during such a turbulent period, though she'd vowed, sworn with a look of dark promise in her eyes that she would return to finish what she started.

And then she left.

Left him hard and throbbing and wanting.

And it was that moment he'd ruminated on for three years, wondering how it would have happened were they not interrupted. Was she really going to just fuck him right there in that chair in the common room? What does she sound like when lost to the pleasures of the flesh? How does she like it? What does she like?

Some days, those obtrusive thoughts were rampant enough that his concentration faltered, and the words in his tomes became blurred and nonsensical. On others, the particularly bad days where thoughts of her lingered even after he'd seen to his… problems with his own hand, the pixies got the better of him, though at least their pranks kept him occupied and otherwise engaged.

But now she is here. In the flesh. And looking just as he remembered; in possession of a rugged and unrefined beauty. Yet still, duty yet calls. He regards her warmly, kindly, yet such a front is nothing but a bulwark for all the tension that seethes just beneath his amicable veneer. He senses it in her lingering gazes, the burn of her eyes as they rove and explore his appearance. He wonders if she can sense his too. If she can hear the thrumming in his veins whenever she steps too close.

Urianger wishes he could respond in kind. Truly, he would want nothing more than to have just one private moment with her, that she may uphold a promise made, but he has never been one to shirk his duties. His body and soul and all that he is, inside and out, calls to her, but he knows there is a task, and a long, winding road ahead, guarded by Lightwardens and fraught with peril. And so it is that he became hesitant to even touch her; afraid that even chaste hands might wander towards softer, warmer parts. How cruel it is, that after all this time, now that she is before him and well within arm's reach, that he is still left hard and throbbing and wanting.

Nay, he thinks. With her so close by now, this may actually be worse.

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2021 Master Post

FFXIVWrite2021 Info // Prompts // Oc info (Kien’s temporary one) N’noah (coming soon!)

Pardon the appearance! It’s my very first time participating in this writing challenge so still adjusting to making the master post look pretty! Most of the stories will be involving Kien but I may throw a few with my other oc’s as well! I will do my best to follow through and challenge myself to work on each new prompt every day! Look forward to it!

Prompt 1: Foster (Pre ARR; Kien)

Prompt 2: Aberrant (Pre ARR; Kien)

Prompt 3: Scale (ShB; Crystal Exarch)

Prompt 4: Baleful (Kien)

Prompt 5: Free day (Laundry) (Kien x G’raha)

Prompt 6: Avatar (N’noah)

Prompt 7: Speculate (Pre Heavensward; Kien)

Prompt 8: Adroit (ARR; N’noah)

Prompt 9: Friable (Kien, G’raha, Alisaie, Tataru)

Prompt 10: Heady (Post Heavansward)

Prompt 11: Preaching to the choir

Prompt 12: n/a (Free day/make up day)

Prompt 13: n/a

Prompt 14: Commend

Prompt 15: Thunderous

Prompt 16: Crane

Prompt 17: Destruct (ShB Lightwarden stuff)

Prompt 18: Devil’s Advocate (KienxG’raha)

Prompt 19: n/a (Free day/make up day submitted prompt 18)

Prompt 20: Petricdhor (Crystal Exarch)

Prompt 21: Feckless (Pre-ARR Kien)

Prompt 22: Fluster (Kien, G’raha, Alphinaud)

Prompt 23: Soul (ShB Kien and Thancred)

Prompt 24: Illustrious (Crystal Exarch and Kien)

Prompt 25: Silver Lining (a random Kien Drabble)

Prompt 26: n/a (Free day/Make up day submitted prompt 24)

Prompt 27: Benthos (SB Kien)

Prompt 28: Bow (Kien, Alisaie, G’raha)

Prompt 29: Debonair (G’rahaxKien)

Prompt 30: Abstracted (ShB Kien and Ardbert)

[windupnamazu]

all of the answers, i've found in your eyes

ffxivwrite2021 #12 (free day): domicile

⮞ lunya/g'raha. 793 words. ⮞ post-5.3 ⮞ there's no place like home, there's no place like home!

domicile: a dwelling place : place of residence.

"Hi," Lunya whispered as she tiptoed up to her husband's side of the bed, eyes luminous in the gentle moonlight from the open window and crinkled with affection when she noticed him peeking tiredly at her through his lashes. "I love you—did you wait long?"

"And I, you," G'raha promised sleepily, smiling as she leaned up to press her forehead to his, holding the touch for ten soft heartbeats before she pulled away. "'nd no, I was just resting. How was—" He yawned, tail flicking as he stretched and pushed himself up on their pile of plush pillows to watch her, bones clearly ladened with exhaustion. "—your trip?"

It was hard to rein in her excitement, lighting up as she exclaimed, "I caught the fish!" as quietly as she could while she crossed to the wardrobe and began to undo the buckles of her belts, slipping off the assortment of pouches hooked onto them. "We left it with the Crystalline Mean." Off went the bandana tied around her arm, her fish hook necklace, the fingerless gloves with a distinctly fishy smell she might never wash out, and the layered sarong over her shorts. Unbuttoning her vest and slipping it down to her elbows, she looked back to see G'raha still fixated on her every movement, the smile on his lips endlessly, eternally fond.

"Our ichthyologists were looking for that one for years," he said quietly, looking like divinity had come to walk the earth, cradled on each side by Menphina's moonlight and the soft shine of the lamp on the bedside table. "You've done them quite the favour."

Frithrik had said as much when she'd teleported into the Mean. She giggled. "I thought I was going to need reinforcements to haul it up, honestly. That thing could've wrapped around an Ishgardian tower twice." Tossing the last of her clothes in the corner (she'd pick them up in the morning, promise), she pulled on a nightgown and padded back to the bed. G'raha was sitting at the edge when she approached, brush already in hand, and she pulled at his shirt to bring him close so she could kiss him and earn a startled, happy sigh for her efforts.

When he pat the spot next to him, she sat, back turned to him before she pulled a baby blue ribbon from her hair and it all came cascading down at once, heavy waves spilling over his lap like seafoam rushing to the coast. When he parted a section off, carding his fingers through it carefully, it was with a understated, overwhelming tenderness.

"How was your day?" she asked softly as he began to brush her hair.

"Busy." His silent laugh shook the bed, warm and content as he ran through the tangles. "Thancred called on me for a favour, and when I tried to leave this morning the Starsingers… ah… asked me to take a doll to Alphinaud. I cannot say if I was more scared to take it from them or allow it to be set loose in the Rising Stones. And Seven insisted on flying me to Mor Dhona in the newest airship for its maiden voyage—I honestly thought we'd crash into the Keeper of the Lake when we were up there, but the worst that happened was just having to find a place to park."

"And thank the gods you're alive and well," Lunya said, meaning it to the very core of her being. "It was nice seeing everyone on the First again—oh, and Lyna said thank you for the gift, and Chessamile nagged me again about your back pain and you have some letters—but I'm glad I didn't have to stay the night."

They sat in silence, then, Lunya watching the way the moonlight fell from their bedroom window across the bed as G'raha tamed her hair back into silkiness. Finally, he said, "I'm glad too. That I'm alive. And that they're all doing alright. And that we're both here. It's good to see you home."

When he set the brush back on the bedside table, she looked behind her and felt a swelling in her throat at the crimson of his eyes, at the selfsame vulnerable but determined gleam there that she could never forget, not when it followed her from the day he shut the doors and then their second ascent of the Tower. They were alright. They were here.

"It's good to be home," she said, chasing his gravity and pulling herself into his embrace. The mansion was their home, but she didn't mean just that. G'raha ran a hand through her hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, understanding everything she meant and more.

Lunya reached over and turned off the lamp.

[miqojak]

FFxivWrite2021 Master List

FFxivWrite2021 Official Carrd/Rules/Prompts

My carrd: miqojak.carrd.co

1. Foster

2. Aberrant

3. Scale

4. Baleful

5. Free Day

6. Avatar

7. Speculate

8. Adroit

9. Friable

10. Heady

11. Preaching to the Choir

12. Free Day

13. Oneirophrenia

14. Commend

15. Thunderous

16. Crane

17. Destruct

18. Devil's Advocate

19. Free Day

20. Petrichor

21. Feckless

22. Fluster

23. Soul

24. Illustrious

25. Silver Lining

26. Free Day

27. Benthos

28. Bow

[weatheredpileoftomes]

centuries deep

For FFxivWrite2021 Day 12, a free day, I took a second stab at the fic I’d intended to write for Day 10 (the fic I actually wrote for Day 10 is the background for this fic). Frydlona/Exarch, post-Shadowbringers (set between 5.0 and 5.1), contains fairly major end-of-5.0 spoilers but no real 5.1 ones, about 1100 words.

Frydlona probably should have expected this.

Thancred is the first person to say something about her new outfit, which Frydlona had more or less expected. Y’shtola and Urianger are still consulting with the Exarch, Alphinaud notices what people are wearing but rarely comments in the moment, Alisaie has never said anything about any of Frydlona’s costumes before, and Ryne has only ever known Frydlona as the Warrior of Darkness in a war that’s ended now.

She might even say she’d expected the deliberate once-over Thancred gives her—she’s not bothered by it; they know each other far too well—but not what he actually says, which is, “Dressing up for someone, are we?”

“What?” Frydlona can feel herself blush, and hopes the lighting in the Ocular keeps anyone else from noticing. She’s not sure whether to look around the room or down at her own top. Looking around the room wins out, because they are in the Exarch’s audience room and the doors are almost silent, but thank the Twelve the magical researchers haven’t come back in the last moment. Alphinaud is smiling encouragingly at her; Alisaie is just staring. Ryne looks confused, which Frydlona wishes she could be herself. “No, I’m—I just—I thought it was pretty, that’s all.”

Thancred raises an eyebrow at her. “Mm-hm.”

Now she does look down. Should she gather the drawstring tighter? Her neckline had looked fine in the glass in her suite, the keyhole at the center mostly hidden by the bow she’d tied in the drawstring so it only looked a little bit daring, but from this angle her cleavage looks deep enough to fall into.

She just—she’d liked this outfit! It’s much like the ones the landbound women of Vylbrand wear, but more elaborate than a farmwife’s or a merchant woman’s dress and with a good part of the front cut away to let her move. She likes the ruffles at the hems of the skirt, and the soft puffs of the sleeves. She likes the color, blue as the sky and sea (and it will match her glaives, too, but she did not pick it out for that, it’s just—it’s nice that it won’t clash with them, is all). She likes the softness of the fabric, absolutely saturated with protective magicks, and the way that if it weren’t for the magicks and the reinforcement on the bodice she could just be wearing a pretty outfit picked out for a pleasant day in the country.

And yes, of course she’d—she’d noticed how low the top was cut, front and back, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed, but she hadn’t thought—

Thancred’s eyebrow is still raised. He clearly thinks, and so does Alphinaud from his lingering smile, that she—

What if the Exarch thinks she’s dressing up for him too? The fluttering feeling in her midsection at the thought is probably just nerves; she can’t be sure it isn’t. She isn’t sure, so she can’t have picked this out thinking about him, and what if he does think she did? What if he says something?

What would he say?

Frydlona takes a deep breath, which does nothing to dispel her nerves. Before she can say anything in her defense, Alisaie cuts in. “People can change their style if they want to, Thancred. Maybe Frydlona just wanted to wear something she likes.”

Bless Alisaie, anyway. Frydlona nods firm agreement, grateful that she doesn’t have to think of an argument herself.

“It doesn’t have to be about impressing someone,” Alisaie continues fiercely.

Thancred puts his hand up in surrender, and the wall panel leading to the Exarch’s library slides open. Frydlona offers a brief but fervent prayer of thankfulness that this didn’t happen a moment sooner.

The Exarch stops in his tracks a step past the doorway, gaze fixed on Frydlona.

Y’shtola is muffling her laughter, poorly. Urianger says, “Thy new garb suits thee well, my friend. Dare we hope that this doth presage some greater cheer in thine outlook, much as mine own…”

He goes on talking, but Frydlona always has to give her full attention to Urianger’s speeches to get more than a vague sense of them, and she is—distracted.

The Exarch insisted, even after the—she’d called him G’raha, three times. The first time she barely remembers through the white haze of pain and fear and plummeting despair; the second, after they’d rescued him from Emet-Selch, had made the tears he’d been struggling against since he stumbled onto the platform with them brim over.

The third time, on the way back to the Crystarium, he had said, “The young man I was when I last heard that name is distant enough that he seems to be someone else entirely. I am afraid all you see before you now is in truth, and not merely a guise of, the Crystal Exarch.”

She hasn’t done it again, but she would swear that it is G’raha Tia looking at her now, fiercely alive and not even a little bit distant. His lips are parted, a little; his eyes burn, and she feels heat prickling across her skin in response.

He blinks a few times, keeping his eyes closed for a long moment, and swallows hard. Frydlona watches the muscles of his throat work and looks away guiltily. She shouldn’t—she shouldn’t be flattered, she doesn’t have a right, not when she can’t be sure she isn’t just feeling grateful and obliged. She can’t be thinking—anything.

“Thank you all for coming to join us,” the Exarch says, his voice almost even, almost cool. He isn’t looking at Frydlona any more, which is fine because she’s only looking at him because he’s speaking. “I wish we had better news to report, but unfortunately we have as yet made no progress on enabling the rest of you to return to the Source. You are, of course, welcome to enjoy the hospitality of the Crystarium for as long as you wish, or to return to your new friends and allies here. If there is anything I can do for you…”

He does glance back at Frydlona then, and just as quickly away.

Y’shtola is laughing again. The teasing is going to be unbearable, when Frydlona can’t even explain to most of them. Maybe she’ll go visit Tataru, and just…hope that Krile is too busy to comment.

[whitherliliesbloom]

take me to where your heart meets mine

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #12 (free) - wanderlust ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,265 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

wanderlust: the strong wish to travel far away, and to many different places

the warrior of light’s home is often empty, but her heart will ever be full and bursting to the brim with love

Travel is an incurable chronic addiction - it has always been that way for as long as she can remember. Though the humble little farm life she led as a modest country bumpkin suited her just fine, her heart could never be tied down to a singular place for long, lest she be left with a longing and desolate soul that wondered for days about the world around her.

Ever since she made the decision to become an adventurer, she’s had to mend and replace her boots countless times for all its wear and tear, with knapsack ever heavy, scrapbook ever growing. 

She was an traveler without peer - tried and true to heart, before she even considered herself a hero. 

And it remains so even now, as a diamond blossom ring adorns her fourth finger, it’s jewel gleaming incandescently in the evening sunglow. 

Truthfully, there is something comforting about the concept of a home to return to - a place where all her most precious and valuable assets are safekept... a place that she can associate with the warmth of a spicy stew and freshly baked bread, and most importantly of all, a place where family stays - whether found or by blood.

There were many places Illya would consider home - from the village of her childhood where she remembered the carefree jibber jabbers of other children of Othard, to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona where she'd shed years worth of tears and blood... even the newly acquired manor in Old Sharlayan that had been purchased under Alphinaud's name... Fourchenault's objections going unheard and ignored.

Where Illya felt most welcome and secure would certainly be the star blossom estate within the Lavender Beds - the hilltop mansion she had bought with years worth of hard earned and saved gil a little while after her eternal bonding ceremony. 

Surrounded by ever blooming wisterias, a wide open front yard that afforded them a spectacular view of the district beneath them, and sheltered by the protective boughs of the elder guardian tree, Illya had resolved to spend her remaining days with her lawfully wedded under the canopy of safety that was to be their new forever home. 

She can still remember the day they’d first moved in, mountain high worth of boxes piled up at the front of the empty yard as the other scions, having offered their help with the couple’s moving endeavors, scrambled about the mansion frantically. And though the chaos of the day still remained fresh in her memory, it only served to paint that place in even more sentimental value than it already had.

The warrior of light wouldn’t trade the estate where she’s spent a great amount of time in the company of the man she loved most in the world for anything.  It’s where she’ll share new memories with Alphinaud - it’s where she’ll raise a family. That estate, more than anywhere else, embodied the feeling of a home where her heart will ever remain. 

However, the estate, like most of her other homes, would soon be left unattended to - relatively anyways. The coming and goings of her ever hardworking retainers ensured that dust never collected... and the feathered friends she kept at home meant that the estate would at least remain somewhat lively even with the owners absent. 

For as much as Illya painfully adored that place, for all the reluctance she feels at leaving her home and evidence of her memories that were stored in the heart of her belongings behind, her desire to travel could never and would never fully abide.

The salty sea breeze of the la noscean air could never compare to the sweetness of rain dew collecting upon forest leaves... nor would she ever truly prefer the barren, dry sandscape of Thanalan over fields of grass and blossoming flowers. 

But a change of scenery keeps her soul afloat, sating her in interminable wanderlust and naturally curious mind. 

For the longest time, Illya could not understand - is still doubtful even now, as she leans over the railing and gazes out into the distant horizons where day meets night - where the sky meets the sea and bright blue begins fading into hues of twilight orange. She pondered over the reasons why she loves to travel as much as she does. 

Her father nurtured that side of her - that much she knows is true... but her desire to travel never once dwindled, long even after she’s left her childhood home behind. 

The lady hero wasn’t exactly immune to homesickness either - in fact, with how frequently she traveled, she was far more prone to it that she’d perhaps like to admit. The contradiction between wanting to travel into a distant unknown and wanting too to return to familiarity was an ironic paradox she’s had to live with for almost her entire life.

How was it possible for her to be willing to leave behind her home... when her very being longed to forever be surrounded by the feeling of home? 

There is a reason why lunar new years away from home always feels so melancholic, why meals alone and huddling over a campfire with no one to talk to always makes her feel so much colder. 

When she feels a warmth pressing up against her side- felt the telltale warmth of slender fingers combing through the silky smooth fringes of the bangs over her eyes and hearing the sound of his voice... it was only then, Illya finally remembered. 

“A gil for your thoughts, darling?” 

Alphinaud leans close to her, propping his elbows up before flashing the woman a gentle smile that washes what little of her lingering doubts and feelings of loneliness away.

Home is never too far away when the people she loves are close by - and her heart will never truly be empty if she takes a piece of home with her. 

She learned that truth about herself every time she read heartfelt letters from her parents, slept in the wilderness in the company of her fellow adventurers. And even in a foreign realm, where the darkness of the night is but a long forgotten luxury, she never truly felt lost as long as she had been in the company of the scions. 

Illya loved to travel so long as she could continue to love the ones she’s grown to care about- and the fulfillment that is being loved in return by the very same people she traveled with only fueled her wanderlust even further. 

And thus, no matter how far she goes - no matter how long she is forced to part from her home, she will never feel completely alone. 

The warrior of light feels far unfamiliar winds blow against her skin, but can only beam up warmly at her husband as she leans closer to press her lips against his cheek. Their matching engagement bands sparkle brightly, carrying pieces of their respective longing for home with them. 

“Oh nothing. I was just wondering where you’d take me next.”

It’s a pointless remark, because she knows Alphinaud would always be willing to take her wherever she desired. He is, after all, now a better half of herself... and he’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she so asked. 

“Wherever makes you happy.” He responds in kind, and Illya has to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

Silly man. He should know better than anybody else by now. 

That she is happiest at home - and home is right where their hearts meet. 

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWRITE2021 - PROMPT #12: Free Write

previous post here

Ten years. Her relationship with the guild had stretched ten long years. She remembered well the first day she stumbled into its large chambers, the torchlight soft, the shadows deep. Like the other acolytes, she donned a robe of black, hiding her countenance under the veil of her hood. She was scared, then. Of the whispers she could not make out, from those who studied in the guild’s halls. Of the guildmasters, who would be learned men with great minds and greater suspicions. Anyone in the world could have ties to Ishgard. Anyone in the world could catch her and toss her back into her cage. Indeed, those were days riddled with tremendous anxiety and sleepless rumination.

Her anonymity was shed when the soulstone reached her hands. The world of Hydaelyn had produced mages of many disciplines, some newly invented and others left to the annals of time. Black magic, that which was gifted to her, boasted an awesome and feared reputation among her colleagues. Though there was a council of wise and storied mages, one that guilds of especially magical orientation reported to, it was less an authority and more a collection of witches and wizards, sorcerers and shamans presenting their various tomes of research. Over the years, she had come to know many, but made friendships with none. Ever was wary of glory mongers, making her an outcast accused, naturally, of the selfsame vice. She supposed she deserved that. Her lack of respect for their organization did little to foster any feelings of warmth among her peers.

[delightfulvoidstudent]

FFxivWrite2021 Prompt #12: Fray

Content warning: Heretics, violence and headaches, oh my.

He was, he decided, coming apart at the seams. Fraying and tearing and unraveling in the worst possible ways. It was bad enough, most days, being in this frozen place, a world of ice and snow, winds that had more teeth than a chaochu and people with the personality of dzo. Dzo with thorns in all four feet, he amended, watching yet another noble mother draw her little one across the street to avoid him. Bad enough to be constantly watched, to hear the whispers on the breeze, to simply be waiting for yet another summons before the Tribunal. He’d paid in blood, more than once, to prove, time and again, that he was not a heretic, not to their faith. He was no blood of their dragons. As though the Dusk Mother was some simple creature to lie with these stiff necked proud creatures and create the thing they most feared. It was laughable. It still ate at him, to be so different, again. There was nothing he could do this time, no simple act that would remove the marks from his skin, no blatant act of courage that would find him welcome on these streets. So he waited for the next summons, for the next trial by combat where yet another young buck with something to prove would think to show his faith by taking on the ‘dragon’ in their midst. It didn’t have to end in death, though often as not it did, when he watched. The Knights were all too eager to stamp out heretics, and thought any advantage was divine justification. Kai preferred not to kill, not to end a life if at all possible, but he also had learned; sometimes, leaving them alive simply meant they would throw themselves at him over and over and over until they died. Well, he supposed, or he did. Heretics were for stamping out, after all. So he listened, always, to the rumors and whispers, the surge and hue and cry of the Temple and Tribunal, because one never knew where the next attack might come from, not which side. It was always the Holy See. Always picking at the edges, nibbling, gnawing, ripping a man apart at the seams of where he was stitched together, trying to find the weaknesses that would allow a rumor, then a whisper, then a dagger in. Unraveling, finding the fraying edges and plucking at them until there was just enough loose to grab and pull and undo, just a little bit further. 

That’s how he’d heard the rumor, the whisper of a man who fought with dusk and shadow. Who fought like a man possessed, a creature from another time, or place. A demon, twisted and disposed of by the oh so holy knight who’d slipped under his guard after taunting and leaving him bleeding. Kai’d managed to keep the expression from his face at that. He knew which knight it was that liked to bleed his opponents. Death by degrees, little cuts, never a clean kill, as though prolonging the agony displayed his skill. From the sound of the citizen’s chatter, he’d been hard pressed for this kill though, forced to end it quickly when his opponent bled shadow rather than blood. They were taking the body to the Brume, leaving it there. Of course they were. Why bother with burial for a heretic? Leave the corpse and it would be stripped in minutes, anything of any value stripped by the desperate, and the body lofted over the thick stone walls to keep the vermin from taking over the streets too egregiously. Why put forth any effort when you can make it someone else’s, someone poorer’s problem?

So he’d gone, led by curiosity, more than anything; what sort of man could hold of a temple knight for any length of time? An unhealthy trait, to be sure, but there was no one to stop him, no one to notice him, really, save the other gawkers and under citizens. His presence kept the other scavengers at a bit of a distance; even the tallest elezen looked up to meet his eye, so they tended to give him a wide berth. He’d found the body, freshly dumped, the knights still chattering about it as they walked away. Still warm, even in this cold air. Kneeling, Kai tried to discern if any of the rumors were true, if this man had been felled after taking more damage than normal, or had simply been taken by an unfortunate slip up. His fingers touched cold stone, then something warm pressed itself into his palm, jagged and slightly heart shaped. Kai had just enough time to think “Well. Shit” before the pain flared, consuming his vision and thoughts in a spike of brilliant headache. He hated this city.

“Kai … Kai!” Dusk Mother, whoever was screaming his name, or whispering it while he had the migraine to end all migraines could just shut the ever loving up. They were still talking, too. A common failing, here. Something about waiting for him to wake, or recover. Hardly shocking, considering he could still feel his heartbeat in his skull and throat. Ever loving migraines. The hard chunk of whatever it was was still in his hand, his breathing was steady. He was still fully dressed, which meant he couldn’t have been in that black space between thoughts for more than a moment. The urchins of the Brume might fear him, but he had nice boots, and frozen overcame fear quite quickly with the chill of the nights in these parts. Dawn Father, were they STILL talking? Heretic, something, ramble, babble, power. It was always the same. Someone else is crying for help. Again. Another soul in need of assistance in the city. That never changed. Turn, try to go, and the way is blocked by a blade almost big enough to impress even him. More talking. Always more talking.

Fray, was it? Fray would offer him a chance to tip the scales? To put things back together, to build instead of being broken by this city?

That he would reach for, with both hands.

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Prompt #12: (you pick!)

Today is an Extra Credit/Make-up Day!

Technically, there is no prompt today. Instead, you can go back and write something for an older prompt that you weren’t able to get to. If you’re already all caught up, or if you feel like writing two things today (an old make-up prompt + this prompt), you can choose your own word to write to today for extra credit!

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/zPdHWtwwhdzvTD82A

#FFxivWrite2021 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!

Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access.

More about single word prompts here.

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