#ffxivwrites 2024

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

Steer and Horizon Prompts:

Odysseus and Venat, Ancient Times

(Reminder this is all rough and I'm not submitting to the contest so I will join prompts)

Dawn was breaking just over the horizon as he guided the wheel of the ship. He had been awake all night, navigating through the quiet solitude of the ocean, the gentle waves below reflecting the sea of stars above. His family was asleep below deck, oblivious to the beauty he had admired all night.

“Still awake?” He glanced back, grinning at his friend.

“Ship hardly steers herself, and neither you nor Pen seem willing to learn.” He beckoned at her to join him. “Are they still asleep?”

“Tele wore himself out watching dolphins yesterday, he might sleep the rest of the voyage.” She snorted. “And Penelope despises the tossing and turning of the waves; she's sleeping as much as she can, rather than retching the whole way.”

“I think this will be the last voyage for those two.” There was a sense of melancholy to the thought. He loved the sea, loved to travel, but it was unfair to Penelope and Telemachus who were more accustomed to urban life to join him regularly.

Especially now that he was to be Azem.

This was the last voyage they would take together.

He gripped the wheel tightly. “I appreciate you helping with the move, Tele’s excited to start at the school in Amaurot. There weren't a lot of young ones in Ithaca.”

She gave him a quick look before averting her gaze. “Always, you know how much you and Pen and Tele mean to me.”

He wondered… Venat had been a friend for many years now, an older friend of Penelope's from her girlhood. She had always been there for Pen and he wondered if there had been something more between them, or unrequited from Venat’s perspective.

He wasn't opposed if she was, if anything he found himself hopeful.

“Pen told me something silly last night, and I couldn't sleep.” She was standing against the rising sun, her form a dark silhouette against the dazzling light.

“And what's that?” He couldn't imagine what Pen could say that would shake someone like Venat. She never startled, always seemed ready to tackle whatever came to her with wisdom and forethought.

“She asked me to join your family, said you had both expressed interest.” He could see her hands clasped tightly behind her back, the only real sign of her unease.

He hadn't been sure Pen remembered. They had briefly discussed who a third could be to their partnership, if they decided they ever wanted to open up to it. He hadn't remembered Pen saying anything, but he had certainly mentioned Venat and Pen’s knowing little smile as he suggested it before their conversation turned to others. “Oh.”

She laughed quietly. “I didn't know what to say. Oh rather summed up what I said at the time.”

“And now?” He was hopeful, but he also didn't want it to come between their friendship.

That was the important part, that she felt comfortable enough in either scenario.

He drew in a deep breath. “You're my friend, Pen’s friend, first and foremost. If you don't want this, we can forget it was ever mentioned.” He swallowed, nervous. “Besides, I'm about to be Azem, I won't be around as much. I wouldn't blame you if… if it wasn't what you wanted.”

“I am considering it.” She bowed her head. “But there is the slight issue that I was recently recruited to the Words of Azem.”

“You what?” He spluttered, peering at her suspiciously. “Since when?”

She laughed and spun around. “Why, the very same day you received your promotion. I needed a bit of a shake up, and imagine my surprise when I came out of Igeyorhm’s office just to see you walking out of Azem's office with a look of confused horror.” She shrugged. “It was meant to be a surprise, but then you were busy and I had training, and well… I didn't think it would matter.” She looked down at her feet. “Since you and Pen were so happy with each other, there never seemed room for another.”

He shook his head. “I won't push, but if Pen has already broached the subject, I'm all for it. I was more worried you'd have expectations I couldn't deliver, being away so often.” He gazed out along the horizon, seeing the gleaming city of Amaurot rising in the distance. “It's our fate to wander the Star, and some company would be welcome.”

[elektroyu]

And! At last! ✨

Day 31 - Portuguese Water Dog

This was really fun, I didn't think it would go as well at first haha. Added the little stars at the end because he's looking up so intently. A little stargazer! 😄✨🤩

But wow, now the whole thing is FINISHED!! Granted it took me a whole year when others do it in just 4 weeks, but I honestly don't care 😂 I finished it, learned a ton while doing it, and I'm extremely happy with the results overall. YAY!!

js-tierportraits.de

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIVwrite2024 Masterlist.

Yet another list of some of the most ridiculously daft poetry ever inflicted upon an unsuspecting reader - featuring alcoholic dwarfs, Gridanian coleslaw, escaped chocobos, some very strange goings-on in the back of a trolley, and G'raha Tia's terrible cooking...

Steer.

Horizon.

Tempest.

Reticent.

Stamp.

Halcyon.

Morsel.

Apricity (free day).

Lend An Ear.

Stable.

Surrogate.

Quarry.

Butte.

Telling.

Serene (free day).

Third-Rate.

Sally.

Hackneyed.

Taken.

Duel.

Shade.

Redame (free day).

On Cloud Nine.

Bar.

Perpetuity.

Zip.

Memory.

Deleterious.

Guffaw (free day).

Two Heads Are Better Than One.

Thank you to everyone who offered support and encouragement to me over the past month. And well done to everyone else who took part - I have put together a post highlighting some of my favourite pieces of writing here (all of which are considerably better written and more sensible than my nonsense).

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #18: Hackneyed

---

Mathye inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled and closed his eyes. Exhaled and opened them. No luck. He was still staring down Ran'jit's chief flunky and assorted minions. Halone was quiet--the Greatwood was still filled with the tainted Light. Priming was out of the question--even more so that Ran'jit had figured out a way to temporarily block their Eikons. Mathye didn't trust that Eulmore's general wouldn't come flying out of nowhere to hit him on some vital energy point. Which meant he had to do things the old fashioned way.

As if you mind. A whisper from Halone, quiet mirth in her tone. Mathye smirked. She was right, of course. His goddess knew him well.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" He addressed the Chief Flunky. Names were irrelevant, he was either going to scare the bastard absolutely shitless or kill him. Both were preferable.

"I have heard every single hackneyed insult under the sun when I was home. I doubt there is anything here on this world that would stick, and based on your particularly...inspired insipid performance, I'm inclined to think that I'm right! 'Monster' is not going to get any sort of rise out of me. I've heard it before. I'm going to continue hearing it. Demon? Also heard that one before too. Darkness-damned? That's new but it doesn't have the bite that you think it would have!" The flunky and assorted minions were starting to back away in fear at the expression on the healer's face. Mathye hummed, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Let's see...I've been called frost-gash manwhore, I must admit that one was creative! The one who said it got disemboweled a few moments later. Unfortunate for him, my baby brother was in the room with us. He's very good with a sword, I'm quite proud of him." Mathye took one step forward, and the Eulmorans took one step back.

"Stay away!" The Chief Flunky got out, panic in his tone.

"Mmm..." Mathye pressed his lips together, thinking. "No."

[mrlarkstin]

FFXIV Write Day 1: Steer

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 2

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 258 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin | pre-ARR Rating: Gen. Background story, the beginning, overconfidence of youth

Horizon

It feels incredibly awful to sneak away in the middle of the night. Her sisters and her fathers sleeping, Meryta pauses at the door. She can hear Dad snore, the way he always does when he’s in deep sleep. She steels herself. It has to be now, or she’ll be stuck here forever, hunting goats and rabbits and maybe a marid if she’s lucky.

She’s planned this. She has food and her bow and a spare set of clothes even. A simple don’t worry note left on the kitchen table. She will show them, away from her Father’s forbidding just about everything, and her Dad’s you’re not yet ready.

Meryta Khatayin slips out the door of her childhood home, and down the slope of the familiar mountain, down towards the grasslands below. Nhaama’s light guides her path, and she has no issue finding her way along the rocky path.

It’s dawn when she reaches the grasslands, when she turns away from the path to the herds. The Steppe is vast, and it will not be easy to find her. It’s not as she has a plan, but she can’t stay on the Steppe. The Nadaam is over and besides they’d find here there. She’ll find some way to test her meddle, even if she has to leave the Steppe. She’s not afraid. She’s not afraid.

The sun rises and Meryta looks towards the horizon, pinks and golds coloring everything in Azim’s light.

It’s her time. She’ll be a great warrior, nothing and no one can hold her back.

[umbralaether]

FFXIV Write 2024

Day 1: Steer

Steer clear of Pandaemonium, lest you never return.

Astraea had heard the whispering about Pandaemonium, how the wardens and creatures alike were imposing and dangerous. You certainly did not want to be caught poking around where you shouldn't be, as the place was off limits for most people.

Still, her creation locked away here? Unfair, and certainly stunk of ulterior motives.

She stalked silently along the shadows, trying to sense the creature she was looking for. She pulled her hood tighter to her head, obscuring her face from the wandering watcher of this section. Slowly, she approaches the cell where Cactua was being held.

"Finally… free…!"

The voice that popped into her head was not her own, but that of Cactua. Somehow, telepathic speech was it's preferred method of communicating, though it seemed to only work one way at this time.

"Shh.. Yes, yes Cactua. I'll get you out of there."

Astraea worked quickly to unlock the door. Hades had told her explicitly not to come here, to let what had been confiscated stay that way. It wasn't worth her status, her reputation, to be caught in Pandaemonium of all places.

Click!

Cactua does what Astraea only assumes is a dance of joy, before it quickly ducks itself under her robes and out of sight. Now all she has to do is make her way out of here…

She makes a quick incantation to perform the teleportation spell to take her home and just as the aether begins to fizzle around her, her heart stops.

There, a short distance away, piercing blue eyes bore into her own. Arms crossed, a woman with brown hair begins her way towards her before the spell whisks her away.

Somehow, Astraea feels the icy prickle of that gaze even back at home.

[lady-protector]

18. hackneyed (make-up)

“What are your plans for Starlight?” The question slipped out before Aymeric had the chance to think better of it, and he winced at the flat stare Estinien sent him in response.

They hadn’t known each other terribly long, and been tentative friends an even shorter period of time, but even so, Aymeric knew how sensitive the other man was to any even oblique mention of his family.

He cast about for a follow-up statement that wouldn’t sound completely trite, and settled on a peace offering: “My mother makes an excellent holiday roast, if you’d like to come by. Far better than anything we can afford on our pay, and I wouldn’t wish the Congregation’s idea of Starlight dinner on my worst enemy, much less a friend.”

A grunt was his only answer, and Aymeric sighed internally. He hadn’t expected much, honestly. The dragoon-in-training was recalcitrant on his best day, but he was also unfailingly loyal, and completely unconcerned with social status in a way that was incredibly refreshing. Aymeric liked him a great deal, even with his sour attitude – and if Estinien accepted the invitation, maybe it would stop his mother from fussing about him being lonely, which always inevitably led to her trying to persuade him to live at home rather than the barracks.

Aymeric had not had many friends in his youth, and truthfully, joining the Temple Knights had been as much an attempt to find somewhere to belong as a place to prove himself and serve his city. He had hoped that his fellow recruits would judge him on his own merits, but the highborn gave him a large berth for the same baseless reasons they always had, and most of the lowborn sneered at the idea of another noble son playing knight – especially one who was his father’s heir. Spending his nights in the comfort of his childhood home would only make that problem all the worse.

Most days he attempted to distance himself from his parentage – both the truth and the rumor – but no one, not even his detractors, could begrudge him going home for Starlight.

And so he was sitting at the dining table, regaling his father with only slightly embellished stories from his recent forays into the highlands, while his mother put the finishing touches on a meal she still insisted on cooking herself, when there was a dull thud against the heavy wood of the front door.

His father always dismissed their meager household staff to their own family homes for the holiday, so Aymeric rose and hurried to the door himself, trying not to be too hopeful. Perhaps it was merely a group of carolers, or a friar accepting alms for the children of the Brume.

Opening the door revealed a rather disgruntled young elezen man, hair released from its customary tail, and clad in linen shirt and calfskin trousers that looked nice, if a bit rumpled, and entirely unsuitable for the season. Aymeric stared at him in shock for a moment, before his face cracked into a wide grin. “Estinien! I did not think you were coming!”

His excitement was met with a glare. “Are you going to let me in or not? It’s bloody cold out here.”

Aymeric stepped aside just in time to avoid being pushed aside as Estinien shoved himself through the doorway without waiting for an answer.

“My apologies. What made you change your mind?”

Estinien folded his arms across his chest, thin mouth set in an irritated line that Aymeric was beginning to suspect was partially embarrassment. “I never said no. And you were right, what they serve at the barracks tastes like chocobo’s arse,” he declared loudly, and Aymeric could hear a soft snort of laughter from his father in the dining room.

As they walked towards the dining room, Aymeric murmured a quiet, “mind your language in front of my mother, please.”

Estinien’s ears turned a bit pink, and suddenly he went from looking like a man of two and twenty to a boy of fifteen. “I’m not a bloody imbecile, I know how to behave,” he hissed back, and Aymeric very politely did not point out the hypocrisy in his word choice.

As they entered the dining room, so did the Lady de Borel, heavy silver platter held in delicate hands that had begun to shake more often than they did not. Leaving Estinien to stand in the doorway, Aymeric darted over to his mother and took the platter from her, ignoring her protests as he did so.

“Well, who’s this, then?” asked his father, peering at Estinien over his spectacles, and Aymeric smothered a laugh at how uncomfortable the man looked. ‘Twas uncharitable of him to find amusement there, but the man looked as if he had stepped onto a battlefield filled with dragons, rather than a friend’s home with his elderly parents.

“Estinien Varlineau, ser,” he responded, awkwardly, shifting his weight as if unsure of his welcome. “Aymeric invited me.”

As Aymeric put down the heavy platter of food, he decided to throw the poor man a lifeline. “Father, you will remember that I mentioned a young dragoon who saved my life two moons ago? That was Estinien, who has since become a good friend of mine. As he is unable to return home for Starlight, I invited him to ours.”

His mother gasped and walked over to Estinien, taking his hands in her own. “Oh, of course! Thank you so much for looking after our boy. Come, sit.” She tugged him towards the table and Estinien followed, looking a bit overwhelmed as she ushered him to the seat next to Aymeric’s own. His father rose and pulled out her chair for her as she walked back around the table, sinking into it gratefully, and Aymeric squashed a twinge of worry for how unsteady she seemed.

Estinien sat as he was bid, casting a slightly bewildered glance in Aymeric’s direction as he carved the roast and deftly transferred it to plates. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, isn’t it? As I recall, it was you saving my damned fool hide. Twice.”

Aymeric shot him a warning look, then shook his head, face falling back into a pleasant mien. “Ah, but if you had not wounded that dragon as you did, it would not have fled the battlefield, and instead finished what it began with the rest of our company. Thus I owe you my life, and my thanks.”

Ducking his head and fidgeting, Estinien didn’t say much throughout the dinner, only speaking when spoken to (and without any more swearing, praise Halone), save to compliment the cooking, which made Aymeric’s mother glow with pride. They had scarcely finished eating when his parents excused themselves, his father gently guiding his mother up the stairs as she leaned on him in exhaustion.

Aymeric sighed. Clearly she had overtaxed herself today – ‘twas likely that this would be the last Starlight dinner she cooked herself.

Turning to his guest, he held up the half-empty bottle of wine, then refilled only his own glass when Estinien shook his head. “I am glad you came. They worry too much, and I think you being here eased that somewhat. Or at least made them less likely to openly fuss over me.”

A faraway look came over Estinien’s features, doubtless thinking of his own parents, and he shook his head. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Fancy house aside, you actually live like people.”

“Glad I am to have disabused you of the notion that I am some spoiled little lordling, playing at war,” Aymeric responded, a faintly bitter twist to his words.

“Oh, have no doubt, I still think you’re spoiled. Just in a normal way, not the highborn brat way.” Estinien grinned and tossed back the last dregs of his wine as if it were a mug of ale.

Aymeric laughed and shook his head. “’Tis better than the alternative, I suppose.”

Wood scraped over stone as Estinien shoved his chair back. “I should be getting back, I’m sure they’ll have us doing drills in the morning.” He turned away as he stood, then paused, not looking back. “Thanks,” he muttered, then tromped towards the front door without another word.

Whether he meant for the invitation, or for the arrow to the eye of the dragon that nearly killed him, or for the offer of friendship, Aymeric didn’t rightly know, but it warmed his heart as surely as the wine did.

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 4. Reticent

Characters: Y'zel Tia, Y'shtola Rhul Expansion: Dawntrail Rating: G Summary: Y'zel is made to hear, feel, think Notes: No smoochies here. Are you proud of me?

“You are changed.”

Y’zel didn’t look up as Y’shotla stood before him, lazily separating his research notes from his students’ homework assignments. “Hm…have I?”

“I suppose it’s a mixed blessing. I don’t readily miss your mewling over your paramour’s, but I do feel the absence of your company,” Y’shtola said, pouring them tea before sitting down across from Y’zel at his desk. “Though, I suppose being the Doman Consort does keep you far from home.”

Y’shtola closed her eyes as she lifted her saucer so that she could take a cautious sip of her tea. Meanwhile Y’zel mostly ignored the gesture for a moment, straightening his paperwork before removing his glasses and leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “Home is it now? I cannot think of any one place I’ve stayed long enough to dub ‘home’.”

“And here I am the romantic one with the sentiment of home not being a residence but where the people they care for are. Perhaps, I too, have changed,” Y’shtola said, absently brushing her ear, or more accurately the earring upon it.

Y’zel didn’t respond, eyes attempting to avoid his cousin’s gaze as he idly fingered at the paperwork on his desk, only focusing upon her out of habit and necessity to read her lips. He opened his mouth briefly, almost finding himself rudely asking ‘Is that all?’; however, he decided it was best not to hurry her off and give cause to worry. “I am as I always have been. My mind is just full and my responsibilities continue to stack up before me.” 

Y’shtola shook her head. “I cannot, nor care to, imagine what mental gymnastics it takes to maintain your dual lives and keep your sanity. I can only ask as someone who cares for you to ensure you’re taking care of yourself. You’ve always had a way of…contorting yourself into a situation rather than seeing how or if you can fit into it naturally.”

The notion hung in the air, Y’zel flicking his ears back a little in annoyance as he was given unsolicited council. Still, he could not dismiss the observation made. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair he sat up and finally moved to nurse his tea. Y’shtola tapped her finger lightly against her mostly empty cup as she looked around the small office before setting it on the table. “I’ve interrupted enough of your time checking in. I should get back to the Annex and see what more Krile needs of me before she departs for Tural.”

“Tural?”

“Yes, Tural. It seems the New World has taken a keen interest in our friends. Tural’s Dawnservant has opened its borders to us to observe their Rite of Succession. My interests keep me here so I’ve not made plans to join the envoy, but I imagine it should prove enriching for those curious of distant cultures. At the very least it’ll help foster global citizenship post Final Days.”

With that, Y’shtola stood then walked from the room, leaving Y’zel to turn to a map of Hydaelyn and think.

[laspocelliere]

Day Twenty-Eight: Deleterious

In darkness and silence, the Ascian appeared in Ishgard.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the city. In recent years, even, it had come to resemble his familiar Garlemald, locked in an icy grip from which its citizens needed to shelter against. It made them, in his opinion, all the easier to control; fear was quite conveniently sowed where challenges and difficulty lie.

It would likely be ripe to revisit in a few short years. When certain…inconveniences had died off.

In the snow-capped night, Emet-Selch gazed, unimpressed, down on one such inconvenience.

He was asleep, and the state didn’t improve him any. It had taken very little effort for the Ascian to trace the glamoured ring on the hero’s finger to the hollow attempt at a knight who currently lay atop his fully made bed, brow furrowed with restless sleep and nightmares. Worry, likely, and the simplicity and naivete of it all made him want to slit the Commander’s throat where he lay. Save him the mess and the heartbreak that was certain to follow, if he continued to follow his current path.

If he continued to follow her.

Despite knowing the hero of the Source for only a short period, Emet-Selch had known her, instantly and immediately. She reeked of death; destruction followed her like a plague. There was armageddon in those eyes of hers, and anyone who fell into their path would be met with only doom.

He had encountered eyes like hers before.

Only one of them had walked out of it alive.

The same fate waited for this son of Ishgard. The Ascian peered down at him with vague disgust in the darkness, watching the nightmares flit worry across his closed eyelids. With their hero stranded on the First, clearly the pair had been separated, and it was taking its pathetic toll; Emet-Selch could see the dull shadows under the boy’s eyes even in the dim light. He longed and yearned for her in ways that the man Emet-Selch had once been might have done, centuries ago.

Back before he knew what women of her sort could do. What the follies of hearts not meant to be could do to topple a society, to fracture and destroy thousands of lives.

This Warrior held the same nuclear power in her very being.

He intended to use it. Incidentally, by turning her into the weapon she had been designed to become, he would unintentionally save this poor, unassuming boy from the fallout of her blast.

Tilting his head as though studying an insect beneath a magnifying glass, Emet-Selch considered the sleeping knight. He found him lacking and sorely wanting in every way, and the disappointment he felt annoyed him more than it should have. What about this powerless, unimpressive knight had turned the hero’s head on that lovely neck of hers? He was plain, and Emet-Selch had seen similar of his ilk dozens of times over the centuries; princes who thought they could make a difference.

They bled just the same as every one who had come before them.

After a few moments, as his annoyance grew, the Ascian disappeared as seamlessly as he’d arrived. Back to the First, back to the plans he’d laid, and back to their precious hero with her icy anger and fire-torn eyes.

Maybe, in her destruction, he might actually create a net good for the first time in millennia.

[kannedia]

FFXIV Write - Day 2 - Horizon

Momodi helps a new adventurer. And the rumor mill of Ul'dah spins as it is wont to.

"In any case," Momodi kept her eyes on the letter in her hand, the corners of her mouth slowly curling. "I thank the Twelve you were there to help them."

It was funny. She had been working this job for many a summer, and she had seen a wide variety of a wide variety of things. This would ever count as a first for her.

Before the guild counter stood a stringy boy of an Elezen in full armor, this part was not odd given her profession. His gaze read of innocence and his stance was open, which was.

His name was Oscar Moreau. One of many new adventurers to grace her counter of late. A good lad. Though clearly one lacking a working internal compass.

"There's just one problem, Oscar." Momodi continued, stifling her laughter and exasperation both.

The lad all but froze.

"Is something wrong, Miss Momodi?" Oscar questioned, brow raising.

"You were supposed to report to Black Brush station, in Central Thanalan." She pointed out.

For a mercy, the lad was smart enough to look guilty at hearing this.

"You went so far to the west, that it's a wonder you didn't wind up in Horizon."

She would give him a second chance but the lad would never live this down. She could assure him of that.

[irisopranta]

FFXIV Write Day 9 - Lend An Ear

The sound of the bard’s harp rang through the aether plaza in Ishgard. “Lend me your ear as I tell you the tales of the Warrior of Light.” The young Haillenarte kids came to see what the bard was about to sing. Lucille was intent on hearing about the hero’s tale. Julien, the lover of music that he is, was studying how the bard played, figuring out what notes he was playing. And Noel, he wanted nothing more than to be brave as the hero once was. The three cheer the bard as he finished his song. Afterwards the three headed to their mother’s shop for lunch with her. Fortunately, their father was there As well.

The three were excited, reenacting the stories in the shop. Iris was mostly amused with how her children tried to perform the leaps that a dragoon would. The three ran out of the shop to play with their friends and continue to pretend to be the warrior of light.

“So when are you going tell them?”

“Not for a while. Though I am glad that the bard said that the Warrior was a guy.”

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIVWrite Prompt 9: Lend an Ear

Rating: T

Word Count: 431

Summary: Persephone suffers her grief alone. [Takes place in Unsundered Azem AU, during Endwalker.]

[Master Post]

Persephone bid the Scions, her friends, goodnight before retiring to her room at the Annex.

As the door closed, the signature smile she wore always as Azem slipped from her face, leaving behind a visage of grief that she could not fully destroy, no matter how much she wanted to. That she could not share with anyone else. For who else would understand her grief and feel her pain the same way? Who among them was not happy that the threat to the star she had loved so dearly was dead?

She pulled her crystal from her pocket, the lovely orange that reminded her of sunsets, that he had said so long ago matched her eyes, seeming to sparkle less now. Persephone dragged herself to the nearby bed, still fully clothed and thoroughly incapable of even taking off the long robe-like coat she wore, and curled loosely on her side, hauling the blankets over her as if to hide from the rest of the world. She touched the crystal, and it spoke once more, the only words she had left.

“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler.”

A voice that would never speak new words to her, preserved in its original perfection in cold crystal, speaking words she had long since memorized. Some days she was tempted to stay in bed and only listen to them, again and again. His voice was the only thing she lived for now.

“Shepherd to the stars in the dark.“

That, and the reminder that she still had a job to do. A people to save. And once she did…when her purpose was complete…

She would have earned her rest, would she not? And then, then, she would deserve to see them again.

“Though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift,—“

Persephone slipped the purple crystal, with the constellation of the seat of Emet-Selch, from her pocket, placing it with hers, as if she believed that if she just put them close enough together, it would ease the loneliness in her heart.

But they were just stones. Beautiful and sparkling, but they did not ease the ache that had become her constant companion.

“—where you walk, my beloved, fate shall surely follow.”

Persephone did not recall when the tears started falling, but she made no move to stop them as she touched the crystal again, closing her eyes as if to imagine the voice was murmuring her to sleep rather than intoning an age old recording that was now all she had left.

“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler…”

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #1: Steer

-----------

"How the fuck do you steer this thing?" Reinhardt asked, looming over the skyslipper's passenger side. Then he grunted as a hand seized his collar and pulled him back.

"Absolutely the fuck not." Augustine commanded. "I'm driving." Climbing past Zurvan's Dominant, the paladin dropped his bag next to the skyslipper's driver seat.

"Since when the hells do you get to drive?!" Reinhardt demanded.

"Since I don't trust you, don't trust my brother, and I especially do not trust Sebastian." Augustine bent over to adjust the pedals for his height.

"Halone take the wheel." Sebastian cracked, placing his own satchel into the skyslipper's carryon. That done, he dropped into the first passenger seat.

Would rather not. Came the snarky reply.

"How long is it going to take to get to..wherever the hells we're going?" Mathye asked, climbing on board.

"Whenever Ryne says 'stop' apparently." Augustine replied, settling down in the driver's seat. He started to flick the slipper's control switches as Reinhardt tossed his bag into the carryon hammock.

"Where's Riven?"

"First slipper. And I tried to get her out of it, but she said no." At least Riven was with Thancred, which mollified Augustine somewhat. The scheming of the Exarch and Urianger was still raw amongst the tight-knit group--despite explanations and apologies. As a tactician, Augustine could understand why the pair had done it--even more so when the Exarch had revealed all other ways had failed. But as a Dominant, as Riven's friend, as one of her brothers...

Augustine. Halone murmured. The paladin started. Inhaling, he forced himself to let go of the wheel--he'd been gripping it to the point where he was starting to crush the metal.

"Sorry." He whispered.

It's alright. Halone let a gentle touch of frost brush over her First Dominant's fingers. It...will take time for things to settle. Time for wounds to heal, time for trust--if it could be recovered--to regrow. The Scions could not afford division amongst themselves, nor could the Dominants afford quarrels with their keepers turned friends/allies. The goddess of Ice and War hoped that the...expedition into the Empty would begin the healing process.

"I am not sitting next to this dumbass." Mathye declared, breaking into Halone's musings. "Sebastian, switch with me."

"No."

"What's wrong with sitting next to me?!" Reinhardt demanded. Augustine rolled his eyes, slipping the key into the skyslipper's ignition.

"Mat." He called out warningly as the machina coughed and rattled to life with a loud roar. "All of you. Behave!"

"I have an idea for a game."

"I will fucking kill you." Augustine sighed again, turning around so he could start backing up.

"Why did I even volunteer to do this?" He asked the air.

Reinhardt is not to be trusted with anything mobile, my Dominant would probably drive all of us into a ditch whenever his patience snapped, and do you honestly want your brother behind the wheel? Odin countered.

"We crashed one time!" Reinhardt protested.

Once was enough. Zurvan rumbled.

"I should have gone with Zoissette and the others." Augustine sighed.

[cafe-melanion]

❤️

Steer and Horizon Prompts:

Odysseus and Venat, Ancient Times

(Reminder this is all rough and I'm not submitting to the contest so I will join prompts)

Dawn was breaking just over the horizon as he guided the wheel of the ship. He had been awake all night, navigating through the quiet solitude of the ocean, the gentle waves below reflecting the sea of stars above. His family was asleep below deck, oblivious to the beauty he had admired all night.

“Still awake?” He glanced back, grinning at his friend.

“Ship hardly steers herself, and neither you nor Pen seem willing to learn.” He beckoned at her to join him. “Are they still asleep?”

“Tele wore himself out watching dolphins yesterday, he might sleep the rest of the voyage.” She snorted. “And Penelope despises the tossing and turning of the waves; she's sleeping as much as she can, rather than retching the whole way.”

“I think this will be the last voyage for those two.” There was a sense of melancholy to the thought. He loved the sea, loved to travel, but it was unfair to Penelope and Telemachus who were more accustomed to urban life to join him regularly.

Especially now that he was to be Azem.

This was the last voyage they would take together.

He gripped the wheel tightly. “I appreciate you helping with the move, Tele’s excited to start at the school in Amaurot. There weren't a lot of young ones in Ithaca.”

She gave him a quick look before averting her gaze. “Always, you know how much you and Pen and Tele mean to me.”

He wondered… Venat had been a friend for many years now, an older friend of Penelope's from her girlhood. She had always been there for Pen and he wondered if there had been something more between them, or unrequited from Venat’s perspective.

He wasn't opposed if she was, if anything he found himself hopeful.

“Pen told me something silly last night, and I couldn't sleep.” She was standing against the rising sun, her form a dark silhouette against the dazzling light.

“And what's that?” He couldn't imagine what Pen could say that would shake someone like Venat. She never startled, always seemed ready to tackle whatever came to her with wisdom and forethought.

“She asked me to join your family, said you had both expressed interest.” He could see her hands clasped tightly behind her back, the only real sign of her unease.

He hadn't been sure Pen remembered. They had briefly discussed who a third could be to their partnership, if they decided they ever wanted to open up to it. He hadn't remembered Pen saying anything, but he had certainly mentioned Venat and Pen’s knowing little smile as he suggested it before their conversation turned to others. “Oh.”

She laughed quietly. “I didn't know what to say. Oh rather summed up what I said at the time.”

“And now?” He was hopeful, but he also didn't want it to come between their friendship.

That was the important part, that she felt comfortable enough in either scenario.

He drew in a deep breath. “You're my friend, Pen’s friend, first and foremost. If you don't want this, we can forget it was ever mentioned.” He swallowed, nervous. “Besides, I'm about to be Azem, I won't be around as much. I wouldn't blame you if… if it wasn't what you wanted.”

“I am considering it.” She bowed her head. “But there is the slight issue that I was recently recruited to the Words of Azem.”

“You what?” He spluttered, peering at her suspiciously. “Since when?”

She laughed and spun around. “Why, the very same day you received your promotion. I needed a bit of a shake up, and imagine my surprise when I came out of Igeyorhm’s office just to see you walking out of Azem's office with a look of confused horror.” She shrugged. “It was meant to be a surprise, but then you were busy and I had training, and well… I didn't think it would matter.” She looked down at her feet. “Since you and Pen were so happy with each other, there never seemed room for another.”

He shook his head. “I won't push, but if Pen has already broached the subject, I'm all for it. I was more worried you'd have expectations I couldn't deliver, being away so often.” He gazed out along the horizon, seeing the gleaming city of Amaurot rising in the distance. “It's our fate to wander the Star, and some company would be welcome.”

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 1

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 261 | read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | ENW start Rating: Gen. Reflection, enwalker intro spoilers.

Steer

The journey to Sharlayan seems endless. The water is beautiful, and the weather has been mild so far, making an easy journey. Just very long.

Meryta walks the deck, stretching her legs and her tail and her arms. There’s no real way to train, swinging and leaping with a katana or trying to fire arrows is bound to end in disaster. Not to mention doing magic. The small, green carbuncle following her is the best she can do, along with the moving and stretching.

Estinien has a similar problem. One leap from the top mast to the bow, and the captain quite strongly forbade any more of that. She’s not sure how he deals, but Meryta is wandering the deck restlessly.

Speaking of the captain, he’s at the helm, steering the ship with hands on the wheel. Not a wheel – she keeps forgetting what it’s called. It doesn’t matter. Instead, she thinks of a much smaller boat, steered by a confident hand on the rudder, winds in the single colorful sail.

She misses Tansui. This journey too far, and it takes her further and further away from him. Surely Sharlayan will have an aetheryte, and once attuned she’ll be able to go to him, the cost doesn’t matter to her.

Except that the Telophoroi don’t lie idle, and as usual time is of the essence. She sighs and closes her eyes. The sea doesn’t quite smell the same, but it’s close. She thinks of Tansui’s hands again.  Calloused and confident and too far away. It will have to do for now.