#final fantasy story prompts

[loonybun]

I like to imagine faerie magic that’s used on humans has similar vibes to the myth of the lotus eaters if that makes any sense. Just a divine sense of sweetness and peace that makes you forget any worries you’ve ever had. In fact, it makes you forget a lot of things. Why go through the trouble of thinking when you don’t need to? You’re at peace now, after all.

This would probably be specifically after giving a faerie your name, not before. They can only really start to affect people based on how much power they hold over them, after all. And if they want to put your mind at rest, there’s no better way to do it. You feel taken care of, safe, and blissful.

[else-creates]

The Professional 6/6

And now we come to the end of the story

[avirael]

Sparing you the direct side by side comparison here but I really think Nhagi’ra has a bit of Flynn Rider energy, as in he’s a charming but kind idiot. Maybe a little more silly/clumsy than Flynn 🤭

Imagine him just walking by and seeing a woman attacked by some monster. Of course he heroically rushes to her help just that he slips/trips, falls down down a ravine or something and breaks his leg.

Meanwhile said woman (who can absolutely save herself) chases away the monster on her own and finds him stuck and whining.

Still he immediately puts on his most self-assured, charming face to impress her, which pathetically fails of course.

I Imagine it goes like this:

“Can you walk?”

“Of course I ca- Aaaah! - No! No, I can’t…”

“Alright, let me help you…”

[wilanserulia]

“Ah, so that’s where you were.” The Warrior of Light stiffened at the voice, but he did not turn to meet it. He stood there, leaning on a parapet, gazing distantly at the Royal Palace of Ala Mhigo bathed in the golden reds of sunset. He had recognized it anyway, he had been friends with Thancred for way too many years to mistake him for anybody else. “You made yourself scarce the moment the war council had concluded. What, were you that bored?” He poked at him, as he approached him on the ledge. Wilan kept staring at the palace for a long moment. Then he exhaled, smiling bitterly. “Yeah, bored out of my mind, not like we were planning one of the biggest military operations in recent history. I figured I’d come out here to get a breath of fresh air, stretch my legs, you know. Enjoy the view.” “Yeah, it’s not like we care.” Thancred remarked sarcastically, leaning his back on the parapet right next to him and propping both elbows up. “Sucks to be the guy this whole operation will revolve around, though.” “’And then the Warrior of Light will spearhead an attack straight to the Throne Room’.” Wilan parrotted Raubahn in a mock voice, sizzling bitterness in his voice. “For crying out loud, most of the times they don’t even bother to call me by name.” “That would imply accepting that you’re just human. We can’t have that.”

[Keep reading on AO3!]

[lias36912]

Final Fantasy VII prompt

Time travelling Hojo

Instead of Sephiroth travelling through time or Cloud and his friends getting sent back through some circumstance or other, why not Hojo?

Everyone likes a good happy end, but once in a while you have to destroy everything even more just for a little bit of excitement. But even in such a case there could still be hope.

Hojo, at the end of his life or already dead, gets thrown back in time, with all the knowledge he amassed in his experiments and knowing what will happen. He knows who the key players, in the destruction of his greatest work, are and has also a few theories he never got to prove.

So he optimizes the outcome.

He still experiments on Sephiroth of course, but he can make him even stronger this time around, learning from past mistakes.

As for Cloud, that boy won't be a problem this time around. Hojo can either kill him outright while he is still young or he can start his experimentation on Cloud early and prove the Reunion theory is correct, since he knows Cloud was at least a partial success the last time. Even though he realized it too late.

With everything pointing at Jenova succeeding in destroying the planet this time, there are multiple outcomes.

1. She succeeds. The planet is dead.

2. The relationship between Sephiroth and Cloud as fellow experiments changes the outcome. Either Cloud is completely under Sephiroth's control, which would be a bad end. Or Sephiroth is more influenced by Cloud, which could lead to a better end.

3. Later in the story, Cloud or others gain back memories from the first timeline and succeed in preventing the destruction of the world.

And of course there could be other outcomes as well.

And who knows, maybe Hojo isn't even that bad? It's all up to interpretation. Yes, his morals are questionable at best, but who knows what you could learn about him, writing from his perspective? It would be interesting to see into the mind of the crazy scientist.

[phoenixcatch7]

Now that I'm thinking about it (though I have thought about it before) wouldn't sephiroth fit so well into bloodborne?

The mother sacrifice and the eldritch child created to be a toy for both the eldritch and religious, the scholars thinking they'd found immortality and infinite power, the pure corruptive blood and power of heritage, the governments obsessive need for control, image, influence, blood. How they raise the great ones up and rip them apart at the same time, push even them past their infinite boundaries. How they think themselves gods even as they kill them. The dream, the eyes, the influence of the mind, the distortion of reality and illusion.

Even without his powers and op-ness sephiroth would make an exceptional hunter. His ruthless, his perseverance, his utter indifference to gore, his muted but genuine kindness, his ability to shove his intestines back into his body and push on to finish the job and kill whatever did that to him.

He'd be of special interest to the great ones, though. A child of their blood? An infant great one? That's what they were looking for this whole time, this is why yharnham is in the state it is, they want a child they cannot have themselves and sephiroth is that alien, blood soaked babe.

Idea: yharnham is nibelheim and jenova is the moon presence. Cloud is the escaped yharnhamite seeking his fortune and safety away from the night of the hunt and sephiroth the unknowing blood child of the bloodless beings, catching glimpses of a ghost in white and the hunter that must hunt. Shinra the church, the manor the hunters dream, and Vincent the old hunter barely clinging to life in the basement. A doll, maybe, resembling a photo sephiroth once lost.

[ffviiibingo]

[STORY] A new beginning, by angelosearch

Title: A new beginning Author: @angelosearch

Laguna invites Squall on a fateful hunting trip with the intention of confessing his relation to him, but they come to face challenges they never expected.

Characters: Squall Leonhart, Laguna Loire Pairings: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart; Laguna Loire/Raine Loire Additional tags: Father-son relationship, fate & destiny, family, star wars-coded Chapter: 1/3

Card: Random Rule Prompts: Parking lot; Ourn next destination Challenge word used: none Team: Island Closest To Heaven Total Points Earned: 13110 (since there were 2 prompts used, points were multiplied by 2)

Read on AO3

[eu0n1a]

9 story starter prompts (pt5)

1) Cutting the wrong wire wasn't an option

2) I thought that nothing could be worse than opening a duffel bag filled with angry bees, I was wrong.

3) She really wished the genie would live inside its lamp instead of mother's crystal decanter, but she's supposed beggars can't be choosers, unless of course they wanted to waste one of their three wishes.

4) I told Heathcliff to get off the moors, as only someone who was up to something would hang out there: but he continued to brood.

5)It was a small glade with a River running through it and sunflowers everywhere. It made his cramped office more depressing to hang such a picture on his wall, but atleast now he could pretend he has a window.

6) It opened its eyes—and they started right at me.

7) There was so much mud stick to his boots that they were impossible to get back on. I could buy another pair, he thought. But that's how rich people get to you. They full the world with mud, make you walk across it, and then charge you for new boots.

8) She swung down and threw the bolt toward the rock face, anchoring herself just in time —but the rope was fraying.

9) The air was so hot and the water has run dry, which might not seem that odd, but it also happened that the fire was wet and the earth was exploding, blowing small children very far away. Everything has gone topsy-turvy and the witch was not altogether sure that she cared enough about small children to go to the bother of saving them.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

That ‘I could never love another song’ going around tik tok but with zack and cloud. Zack being the first one and it’s him watching over cloud as a cadet and dragging him across Midgar.

Then Cloud being the second with him kneeling over Zack’s dying body and then with him regaining the memories of Zack he’d lost.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite23 Entry #2: Bark

FFxivWrite 2023 FFxivWrite23 Masterpost Prompt #2: Bark

It was an evening like any other when Faye made her way through the rough streets of Ul’dah, the noblewoman clad in fine, white clothes entirely out of place there. The sun had already set, but be it due to foolish naivety or perhaps a more deserved confidence, Lady Covington did not appear nervous of her surroundings. She was not one to drop her guard, however, especially not some place so rife with dangers, and so the sound of a thud and some rustling from an alleyway wedged between two buildings as she passed immediately caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks.

She crept forward to peer around the corner, relieved to find the source of the noise was only a trash bin that had been toppled over by a small and no doubt harmless creature now rummaging through its contents. Quietly, she approached the furry critter which eventually took notice of the sound of her footsteps drawing near, and it withdrew its head from the trash can to look at her. It was a small dog, a motley mix of any and probably every terrier and toy breed, all skin and bones with filthy, matted fur and crusty eyes. The mutt instinctively barked and growled, guarding the chicken bone within his maw, but he quieted after he seemed to decide the Hyur before him was a friendly enough presence. “Oh you poor, precious thing,” Faye cooed and she crouched down, heedless of soiling her long skirt and its pristine fabric on the dirty floor of the alley. Watching the dog, she outstretched one gloved hand and waited patiently for him to overcome his reservations, drop the bone, and hesitantly come closer to sniff her fingers, tiny black nose wiggling and his tail tucked between his skinny, shaking legs. Once he seemed comfortable, she dared to move her hand nearer, her fingers tentatively petting over his head, brushing the overgrown fur from his eyes. “That’s a good boy,” she spoke more honeyed words, and his tail gave a tired little wag. Finding that the pets had been received well enough, Faye scooped the dog up into her arms, paying no mind to the fleas that would surely leap onto her and nip at her flesh, standing up and holding him outward to inspect him with delight. “Let’s go home, get you cleaned up and get you some real food. Oh, and you’ll need a name, of course. Something proper and dignified…” her words trailed off thoughtfully, and with that, Sir Checkers’ fate was sealed. She always did have a soft spot for strays.

[poisonedtealeafs]

Clothes, towels, a toothbrush, headphones and an ipod. Thrown haphazardly into a backpack. A binder with legal documents stuffed in between and a digital camera on top. Xenia takes one last look around in their room, her look settling on her sleeping twin brother. "I'm sorry, but this is good bye."

She stares at the key in her hands. She can't keep it. She won't keep it.

There should be a crack somewhere in the wall, her fingers are searching for it. She drops the key into it. Her brother will know where to look for it.

She shoulders her backpack, back already turned to the house she grew up in, and she walks away. Around the corner and she runs having to catch her friend before he leaves his house. She won't let him go alone.

"Took you long enough", Xenia mumbles as a black figure steps out of the door next to her. A joint, unlint, is dangling from her fingers. "Here."

Spencer stares at her wide eyed. He opens his mouth only to let out a deep breath. He takes the joint and lights it. One puff and he passes it to her.

"I hate you."

"You don't."

He follows her as she leads the way to the train station, in the next town.

[starr234]

Luke focused his magic and the wind focused with him, changing directions to fill his sails and send his little boat skimming across the tops of the waves. It would take the Executor longer to come about and pick up speed, and even then–

The next cannonball didn’t miss.

[autumnslance]

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

Aeryn was about done with this whole event.

The festivities were still in full swing, the ceremony itself over but the meal was its own intense affair with all sorts of traditions, and courses, and so many relatives and friends needing to take time to talk to the family of the bride.

She was hitting her limits and needed to find a reason to step away, even for a few minutes.

She finally found her opportunity and slipped out of the packed room, then quickly down the hall; there was a balcony, she could get some fresh air.

Aeryn wasn’t the only one with that idea, she found, ducking behind the wall before she was seen. She peeked again, wondering exactly how Kai and Mirvah had managed to step out of the feast themselves, given they were the guests of honor.

She watched them speak quietly, Mirvah giggling in response to something Kai said. One of his big hands ever-so-gently cupped his bride’s face, thumb brushing softly over her cheek before he leaned down, their eyes closed, lips carefully coming together as they leaned into one another.

Aeryn’s face burned and she turned away, hurrying down the hall to find somewhere else to hide from the press of people and noise. And yet, the sweet image of her brother and his new wife stuck in her mind’s eyes.

Perhaps because she was so used to Kai being boisterous; he was always so loud, as if even his large size couldn’t contain his energy. Yet there on the balcony, she had seen a quiet, tender side she couldn’t recall being drawn out before.

Aeryn smiled. They would do well together, she thought. She could only dream to be so lucky someday.

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 03 - Tempest

(Content warning for slavery and violence)

It was the sound of the pouring rain that brought A'viloh back to his senses in the middle of the night.

Even down here, lying on the dirty old floorboards of the crew‘s quarters, he could hear the heavy raindrops drumming against the hull of the ship.

For some reason the slavers hadn’t locked him up again with the others as they usually did when they were done with torturing one of them. Vaguely he remembered how he had gotten here and immediately wished the rain hadn’t awoken him from his stupor.

He pressed his eyes shut hoping to go back to that hazy numbness, that somtimes graciously spirited his mind away when the monsters returned to fetch him from the cell. He didn’t want to be here and if he couldn’t change physically being here, he at least wanted to be elsewhere mentally.

He was so tired. So exhausted. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not here. Sometimes he thought he would never be able to sleep again at all.

In the distance he heard the creaking of a wooden door and with it not only footsteps appeared but also the noise of howling wind outside. Heavy boots made the floor tremble right beside his head and he prayed to remain unnoticed, as if a naked Miqo'te with long tangled fire-red hair sprawled all over the floor was something that could just turn invisible. Maybe if he prentended good enough though they would think he was dead and throw him overboard or at least leave him alone for a while.

The man who had entered the room however didn’t pay any attention to him. Nonetheless his angry deep voice startled A‘viloh as the man began to shout.

„Get yer asses o‘ hammock ‘n onto deck! The Seven Hells be breakin‘ loose up thar! The cap‘n wants all o‘ ye ugly bilge rats t‘ muck in!“

A few ill-humoured groans echoed through the room and after another impatient yell by the first mate the remaining crew members reluctantly crawled out of their hammocks and up the stairs leading to the deck of the ship.

One of them stumbled over A'viloh in his drunken half-sleep but luckily just got up again with a string of profanities on his lips but without really taking notice of him.

Then the Miqo'te was left alone in the dark stuffy room and finally dared to breath again. And as the thunder outside began to growl and everything turned silent apart from the muffled sound of the storm, he allowed himself to cry. For a long while his pained bitter sobs where all he could hear until with a deafening crash another lightning struck down from the sky and made the whole ship tremble.

Alarmed A'viloh shrieked and stared up to the ceiling with his arms raised in defense. This sound had been too loud, too close, and the yells on deck got louder and more nervous too. For a a few moment he just lay there and listened, trying to understand what was going on.

Something was wrong.

This is your chance!, a voice whispered in his head but he knew better than to listen to it. The first time he had tried to flee - or whatever you would call the only way to escape from a ship in the middle of the ocean - he had been caught quickly. Immediately they had noticed him running over the deck and before he could even get one leg over the railing they had grabbed him. Their punishment had been severe and the black and blue bruises all over his body still reminded him never to misbehave again.

But what if you all break out at once?, the voice whispered. Now they are distracted. There won’t be a better opportunity.

Weakly A'viloh tried to sit up but every single part of his body protested. He hadn’t eaten anything in days except for a few crumbs of moldy hard bread they had thrown to their captives. Neither did all the bruises covering his body help, nothing dangerous that wouldn’t heal but it hurt nonetheless. He remembered the captain ordering his crew not to damage his cargo beyond repair, after all he still planned to sell them all. And yet A'viloh was quite sure one of them had broken his tail earlier that evening and apart from this he also felt pretty much beyond repair too.

Suddenly something upstairs creaked dangerously followed by a loud crash and more shouting. Whatever was going on there, seemed to be more than a small problem. Maybe no one would see him distracted by the turmoil…

With his eyes always fixed on the doorway he wrapped himself in the tattered rugs he had been given instead of his clothes and slowly crawled towards the stairs. He used the doorframe as support to get onto his feet but his legs felt so wobbly he more stumbled up the staircase than walked. However when he saw the chaos unfolded outside he froze in his his steps.

One of the the two masts had broken and fallen sideways, maybe struck by the lightning A'viloh had heard earlier, causing a great amount of damage to the ship. There was fire, bright and hot, greedily spreading itself over the deck of the ship and everyone seemed to run around without coordination, trying to put out the flames or pulling on some ropes, to at least keep the rest of the ship working. For a moment A'viloh just stared in disbelief before one realisation flared up clearly in his mind.

The ship is going to sink.

He whirled around in panic and ran down the first and also the second pair of stairs as fast as he could, down to the cargo hold of the ship. Weakly he threw himself against the heavy wooden door and rattled at the handle. A face appeared behind the little barred window. He couldn’t recognise it in the dark but the voice sounded familiar.

„A'viloh? You are back! What is going on? Are you alright?“

He didn’t answer the question and instead kept pulling on the doorhandle with as much energy as he still possessed. Of course it didn’t open.

„It is locked“, he croaked and noticed how thin and hoarse and miserable his own voice sounded to him. Disheartened he added, „I think the ship is going down…“

Wasn’t that what he had wished for? For these monsters to get their rightful punishment? Hadn’t he been willing to welcome death gratefully if it meant for him to get away from here?

Why did he still feel so terrified then?

„Do you know where the key is?“, the voice on the other side of the door asked. Nervously A'viloh searched the room in front of the door for any clues but could only shake his head.

„I think the guy with that ugly scar on his face has it.“, another voice called from inside the cell. „You have to get it, A‘viloh! You have to get us out of here!“

Horrified he stared into the darkness of the cell. He would never be able to steal the key from one of these men, especially not if he had to search for him in that chaos upstairs first. And what if they caught him?

„Please!“, one of the Ala Mhigan girls cried in fear but to A'viloh it felt like a slap through his face.

They were all going to die unless he did something. So he nodded and turned around, running up the stairs again. He at least had to try.

When he arrived on the deck wind and rain greeted him, but despite the rain the fire had already gotten worse. Hesitantly he stayed hidden in the half-dark of the doorframe and tried to find the man the woman had spoken about but with smoke and chaos everywhere this wasn’t an easy task.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity his eyes finally landed on a man at the front of the ship, pulling with all his power on a rope attached to the front mast. A'viloh thought he recognized his hair and his clothes even without seeing his face and indeed he spotted a key ring fixed at the side of his belt.

As quickly as he could he sneaked along the side of the ship, trying to stay unseen and avoid running into any of the pirates. But they had different things to worry about anyway…

Carefully he climbed the handful of steps leading up to the front deck, not that anyone would have heard the boards creak through the noise of this tempest.

There right in front of him the man stood with his back turned to him, focused on his work, and at his belt the wanted key ring.

Slowly he stretched out his hand.

Just a little more.

Then another loud crash split the air.

For a second A'viloh thought he had lost his hearing but then he heard the man in front of him scream.

Panicked he jumped backwards in fear but the scream hadn’t been directed towards him. Instead the man retreated while he stared up to the mast, which had apparently been struck by another lightning. Slowly the material cracked and the mast started to tilt. A'viloh could see the thoughts racing on the man‘s face, as he quickly dropped the rope and tried to run away. He wasn't fast enough though. In a slow but unstoppable movement the mast fell towards the back of the ship burying probably a dozen of men beneath it. The weight of the impact tore a gaping hole into the deck and made huge chunks of broken wood fly in all directions.

For a moment most of the screams apart from the wails of wounded had gone silent. Then through the noise of thunder, wind and rain the ship started to groan. A deep, ominous sound that made A'viloh shudder.

Luckily he had remained unharmed by the accident and briefly he wondered if he could reach for the keys still at the belt of the man who lay buried beneath the front mast a few yalms away from him.

But then with another ugly crunching sound the hull of the ship, weakened by the fire and the damage, broke apart.

The whole vessel tilted dangerously sideways.

For A'viloh on his shaky legs it seemed impossible to remain standing.

With a yelp he fell to the floor and began to roll over the wet planks of the more and more tilting ship.

He tried to hold on to something but before he could find anything his back painfully hit the railing of the ship.

For the tiniest moment he was flying.

Then he hit the water.

Shocked he gasped for air but instead swallowed a mouthful of sea water. The ocean felt cold but the salty water burned. In his eyes, in the scratches all over his body, in his lungs. He had never learned how to swim, not that he would have had the power to do so now. Instead he helpless struggled against the waves and tried to reach for a piece of wood that swam in the water beside him.

But the slippery surface escaped his fingers and another wave of angry water hit him, almost pushing him under. Gasping and coughing he thrashed around, trying to stay afloat.

Then finally he got a grip on the broken piece of the ship’s hull. With the last bit of his energy he pulled his body onto the lifesaving piece of the wreckage, before he fainted.

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 27 - Sole

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here? How are you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grief.

[chocoblep]

#7: Sensory Overload

At least in Gridania, the forest still pervaded the city, and nature was respected. At least there, the sound and the smells and the bustle was manageably anxiety-inducing. Even in Gridania, the concentration of people was stifling to him, and every time he’d visited he’d been eager to depart almost as soon as he’d arrived through the gates. He could last a few days there and only be somewhat exhausted by the time he left. There was something to be said about encountering civilization after such a long time on his own, with no one but his master for company.

But Gridania, he’d soon discovered, was a country village compared to the stone-paved, stone-walled city of UI’dah.

He’d come to this desert city in search of information, and quickly he had been pointed to the Quicksands, where the head of the Adventurer’s Guild–and the establishment’s bartender–was posted. If anyone had a wealth of information at their fingertips or knew where or from whom to acquire it, it was usually bartenders… or so his Elezen acquaintance had said.

The double doors were so large that Rhyle was certain he would have been unable to open them had they not stood open already. Even outside, he could hear the din of many people gathered together, but it wasn’t until he stepped inside that something else assaulted his senses: The entire place reeked of what could only be described as an amalgam of scents that were not natural at all. Perfumes of varying types had all blended together, and underneath it all was the underlying stink of bodies who had spent too long in the desert heat.

His nose scrunched, and he pulled his sash free to wind it around his head and cover his mouth and nose. He couldn’t do much about his watering eyes; he knew that wiping them could invite whatever substances lingering in the air from those perfumes to burn them further. As he headed for the bar, he tried to ignore the patrons as best he could–particularly the ones that were giving him odd looks regarding his makeshift face covering and his clothing, which had definitely seen better days but had not been replaced since his portal incident.

“Excuse me,” he said to the red-headed Lalafell who stood behind the bar on a step stool, drying out a clean glass. “I am looking for Mistress Momodi.”

“Well, you’ve found her!” she replied, leaning forward a bit to eye him with interest.

“Oh, excellent. I am looking for some information that might help me find my way back to my home, and I would ask you a few questions if that is amenable?” He cocked his head, as if perhaps by looking innocent, he increased the likelihood of her cooperation.

“Oh, of course,” she drawled. “Ask away, but understand I won’t give away trade secrets or go into anyone’s personal business.”

“That is agreeable,” he said, and then lowered the face covering for a moment. Instant regret as the scent smacked him in the face once more. He forces himself through his questions, though, and by the time he walked out of the Quicksands, he had a list of people to contact for his specific questions.

Relief flooded him as he exited into the fresh air, and even though it was arid and sweltering against his skin, it still felt glorious to breathe in a lungful that wasn’t heavily doused with perfumes. 

Rhyle had the sinking feeling that going to the markets was going to be just as harrowing as his short stint in the Quicksands. Perhaps something to muffle sound for that one.