#francette bellamy

[nk-akeera]

Hello, I’m back with some art I forgot to post. Again.

I’m really gonna try to do it regularly I swear to god.

These are all paintings & sketches of FFXIV characters, some mine, some others’.

Would appreciate reblogs, posting online is a little brutal.

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2024 Prompt#3 : Tempest

The weather fit her mood. Nothing seemed to be going to plan, every little spark, every tiny flame, every brush of fire that was stoked inside her had been dampened. Extinguished. Poured over by this detail or that restriction and left to sit in a sopping mess. What had started off as a simple return to the Shroud had run headlong into her staying for an undetermined time. Suns? Weeks? A moon? Who knew, at this point. Caspar had asked to come along, and she hadn’t thought anything of it. As soon as she had checked them in for the eve and went to go run some ‘errands’, they came. The Adders. Taking him away for questioning, but never returning him. A week went past. She had to go back home, grab enough supplies that she could at least somewhat continue her apothecary duties while waiting. Waiting for information that never came. Waiting for her ‘errands’ to tell her what the next step was.

One thread unraveled. There had been talk about maybe breaking him out, but that fell through. They had him in the gaol now, not just in holding. And the ‘errand’ didn’t think it would be worth the hassle to do a break and run. She understood, ‘errand’s’ have families and others that rely on them, but he, Caspar, was part of her family. Or at least he was. He’d probably never forgive her, if they ever did release him.

Another thread unraveled. In the wait, in the time spent between keeping herself busy with work and keeping all those who needed to be informed in the know, she found herself fancying someone. Denying it at first because of course she would. But others saw, picked at her for it. Teased, taunted, made it impossible for her to get him off her mind. To get it over with, to get these thoughts out of her head, she told him. Quelled swiftly by his turning his back to her and walking rapidly away, that was the end of that. If you could call ‘nothing’ a ‘that’.

Ordinarily, these happenings would send her ablaze. Her temper was well known, the furious ness of her words, the way she ever and always caused a commotion. Dramatic. Tumultuous. A force of anger to be reckoned with. Hit after hit though, thread after thread pulled, she found herself more and more in the bottom of a bottle. Two if she was feeling particularly disgruntled.

Yes, the weather fit her mood. The storm, the whip of the wind and the flick of the rain were as dour as she was. And in these quiet moments that she spent, another evening coming to a close, she let herself stand outside on the back porch of the Villa, and succumb to that build up of anger. Nobody would hear how her words and her screams fell like hail out of her mouth, for the sounds were whooshed away by winds faster than any levin bolt could strike.

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2024 Prompt#18 : Hackneyed

“I’m going to ignore you now, because you know nothing about me. Do not pretend that you do.”

The woman turned away from the Duskwight, following through on that particular promise. Letting her eyes catch both with the two still behind the counter, she offered her good evening’s and goodbye’s to them, traveling over to the table where one of her other acquaintances and the man who ever lacked for words sat, wishing them the same before taking her leave.

Francette made her way out of the building in irritation. That man, that ‘friend to everyone’ had done the very same, tired thing. Thought he knew why she hated men. Thought he knew what she should do to change it. It was annoying. It was condescending. It was disheartening, even somewhat cruel. It was patronizing.

She walked on, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. She was attempting with all her might to change. She knew she needed to, she didn’t need this endless barrage of nosy onlookers to tell her their ‘expert’ opinions. What she needed was friends. Real and true friends.

What was a friend to her, though? She was loathe to call anyone that, for fear of getting hurt. For fear of being vulnerable, for fear of them finding out that, maybe, just maybe, she was as shallow as she apparently came off. It frightened her to her core that she’d actually deemed to give that status to someone else this very evening. That she’d given it to a few now, really.

That ‘friend to everyone’, he would not get that honour. And that’s how she had to think of it. Her, the man-hater, the mean lady, the throw venomous words first and ask no questions later woman, only gave that title as an honour. That word would mean something to her, every time she gave it. The infrequency in which she would bestow it would ensure it would never grow stale, it would never fall to a hackneyed state.

Letting out a deep breath, the rain pattering over her skin and clothing, she began to feel more at ease. Little did she know that one of her friends had sent a silent companion along with her on her journey. Because she had a propensity to get lost, and because that friend cared about her. If he would have told her, for once, she’d have welcomed the thought that someone was indeed looking out for her. After all, she was, deep down, a very complex woman.

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2024 Prompt#7 : Morsel

Wine. For breakfast. Wine for lunch. Wine, for dinner. This was the state of things once more, for the waifish half-Duskie woman. She’d learned the hard way that food was not always safe. Not because it went bad by being undercooked or overcooked, but because of who she was… what she was. Nobility. And a bastard.

Rarely would she ever get close enough to someone that she’d reveal that little secret, and all the other secrets that went with it. It was clear she was wealthy, it was clear she was Ishgardian, it was clear she clear she was hiding things.

Her father had been the one to protect her, in her youth. When she was born, the truth about her heritage was revealed by her skin colour. In a harrowing turn of events, it was not her father with whom had taken a lover, but instead her mother. Her father cared, but it also didn’t matter to him. He loved her mother, and he was not about to turn mother and daughter out into the Brume for such scandalous behaviour. He also knew what this meant though, the terms of his acceptance. He was mocked. Ridiculed. Shunned. No doubt the only reason their titles and wealth were not stripped was due to the family being so vitally important to the population. An entire family of renowned alchemists, heralding through quite the bloodline.

The truth of it was, though, he was not always able to protect her. Between his disagreements with others of Nobility and his struggle to maintain the remaining pureness of the family, he was not always around for when things were shaken within the home. All of her siblings, when they were old enough to understand the truth, made fun of her. They did not consider her a part of the family, mocking her and picking on her while her mother turned a blind eye. Unable to face her sin, her attention was rather heaped on those legitimate born children.

There came a day when her mother was just negligent enough. As they sat around the table for a mid-day meal, Francette silently noted a particularity about her food. She couldn’t quite place it, but a quick glance to her siblings plates and then to hers gave her enough of a pause. Without saying a word, she snuck off to the laboratory, obtaining a poison-ward potion. It was a good thing her father had at least taught her some on how to protect herself, to think for herself and pay attention, else this might have gone unnoticed. When back at the table, at first, she tried just pushing the food around on her plate, pretending to take bites but really just pressing it down and tucking the bits under the unsquashed others. Of course one of her siblings noticed, and called her out on it.

Here was the moment of truth. In her anger, frustration, embarrassment, she took a bite. Just one little morsel, nothing else. As badly as she wanted to rage at everyone, she could feel the watchful gaze of the servants, her siblings, and even her mother. And so she chewed. And so she swallowed. Immediately excusing herself to go sit in her room ‘for punishment’. Rather than deal with her making a scene, her mother allowed it.

The pre-teen just, almost, made it to her room in time. Hanging on the doorframe, carefully kicking it closed with her heel, she stumbled to her bed. Popping the cork off the potion, she sent it down her throat.

A few bells later, her father entered her room, finding her still passed out, vial still in her hand. Recognizing it for what it was, realizing what had happened. It was then that he made plans for them to move to Ul’dah, and it was then that she learned that almost tragic lesson.

[beanmom-blogs]

@hares-and-hounds posted this, so I thought I'd try it out! The above is the 'name' I go by practically everywhere, beanmom. If you want to do this for yourself, Clicky on the linky...

Martiallais :

and the name he goes by most often, Marti :

Francette (I did just Fran as well but it wasn't as legible so I didn't save it) :

[beanmom-blogs]

I know I give a whole lot of love to my boy(s) but my girl(s) like affection too.. even this one, even though she'll bite your head off in the best of times and pull horrible words to fling at you in the worst of times. (Her bark is far worse than her bite but do not ever tell her that!) She was always gorgeous before the update, but now? Now I can barely keep my eyes off her...

[beanmom-blogs]

Junelezen - 14. Waystop

Between business in the Shroud and business at home in Ul'dah, Fran hits the Oak Villa to speak with a friend, where many bells are spent both reminiscing... and scheming...

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2023 Prompt # 20 : Hamper - "Shown by Deed"

Her finger trailed languidly down the glass tube. Smooth, unblemished to the eye and the touch. Of course nothing was perfect, but this was close enough to it that it worked for her. The liquid inside was cooling, the reason for her touch in the first place. That and her head was so far into the clouds that she didn’t quite realize just how much of a dreamy little look her face was holding. Vastly different from that which she usually held, in a thin line of a mouth and narrowed eyes.

Those same eyes, eyes the colour of turquoise.. Well, no, actually more lazulite, stared at the soft pink fluid as it began to change hue, an indicator it was indeed cooling. The darker it went, the less heat would be left in it.  She hummed a little to herself, something upbeat. Moving to her mixing tray, she set all the powders out in a row, measuring each. A task she could do half-awake and with a hangover, she was so used to it. A dropper with an alchemical solution, a little bubbling, and a puff.  Then that glass tube being set in the tray next to the other.  The first now a clear and deeper rose, she slid the little stopper in, tapping it with five points of pressure to be certain it was firmly in place. The second tube would need another few minutes to cool, then she’d be finished with this lot and would be able to take a much needed break. While she waited, she took a little stroll around her workspace. It wasn’t a huge workspace, but it didn’t need to be either. That same finger which had trailed down the tube eventually stroked a space along the windowsill. Across the desk. And on to a sheaf of parchment she’d been glancing at off and on through the entirety of the morning. “Oisillon” - it began, in a handwriting she would recognize anywhere, now. She read the note, over and over. When she’d originally received it, it had come atop a crate of fruit. La Noscean oranges and white Kugane peaches. If she put the page directly up to her nostrils, she could still smell the hints there of the writer. The subtle play of his soap, the slight scent of books from his library. Or, perhaps, she was only smelling them because she expected them to be there.

Settling the sheaf back into the place it had been, she moved to stopper the second tube. Glancing up at the chronometer, it told precisely what she was hoping for. The mid-day bell, and an escape from the waft of chemicals and peering gazes of the stuffy Uldahnian monetarists, and a brisque walk to go meet the man who wrote the letter for lunch. Nothing would get in her way of it now. Nothing would get in her way of anything in regards to him, now. She wouldn’t let it, not anymore. No more ghosts of the past trying to convince her of things that simply weren’t true. She knew the truth now. The truth inside of her. The only one who had been holding her back was herself. And she had no reason to do that any longer - all that proof that she’d needed from others before and never wanted to ask of him? He gave it willingly and wholeheartedly. That one stubborn ghost of her past was no longer allowed to interfere with her present… and her future.

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2023 Prompt # 15 : Portentous - "She Wore White"

She didn’t usually remember her dreams, they usually weren’t worth remembering. But the previous day had been quite the day, from the start where she thought, once again, that her and her boyfriend just might not be so compatible after all, till the way they curled around each other when they fell asleep, letting the heartbeat of the other lull them into their own dreamlands.  Hopefully his would be pleasant, often they weren’t.

But hers. What to make of this. They say that a dream is the mind’s way of dealing with everything that happened throughout the day. To work through it, to iron it out into pieces that can be better thought over. Which is why most of the time she didn’t tend to remember them.. They were annoying at best and frustrating at worst. This one was neither, and both.

She was wearing white. Not that white was a bad colour for her, actually it wasn’t terrible at all, resting against her brown skin. Why this time, though? She generally only wore white for a very specific purpose. This outfit, it was not the one she’d worn before with the shirt that left little to the imagination because it was cut down to there and the skirt that rode mid-way up her thigh. This was, instead, demure. Stately, even. Also not something that was all too common in her wardrobe. 

The event though, it was fuzzy.  It was hazy.  She didn’t want it to be.  There was a big building?  Something grande, grey stoned and serene. And people… so many people.  Did she even -know- that many people? Why were they all there?  They appeared to be celebrating.. Something.  Celebrating her?  Again, why?  What did she do?  She looked around, everyone was dressed formally, or as formally as some seemed able to get. 

The steps of the building, they kept calling to her.  ‘Walk up me’ they seemed to say. While she didn’t ordinarily give in to curiosity, she was drawn like a moth to a flame. Inside, everything was still. Silent, even. Save for a very soft bit of piano, somewhere in one corner. She looked around, attempting to see who was playing, where they were. The face that she saw startled her, out of sheer unexpectedness. It was.. Fenris?  Auberi’s sibling. But why would he be playing piano for something celebrating her? And why would Hel, another of her boyfriend's siblings, be singing?  Oh.. yes, Hel was next to the piano and had begun singing.  Because that was normal and natural too.  As was Asti, Auberi's twin, joining the two of them with their bass. She shook her head in the dream, and walked forward.  Best to set that aside for later.

Now all the people that had been outside were inside.  In that strange way that dreams tend to shift and move and change things in an instant. There were also flowers… no, plants that had flowering bits, in fancy pots that dotted this runway.  Runway?  Almost. It might as well have been, with seats on both sides and her walking down the middle on this expensive looking white carpetting. At the end of it, another, smaller set of stairs went up to a podium. Someone was waiting for her there?  Ah, maybe she was supposed to give a speech about -whatever-it-was- that she was being celebrated for. A thank you, to all my friends and family.  That must be it, because that was Auberi she was making her way toward, and he was wearing a very fancy tuxedo. And smiling, so beautifully. 

WAKE UP, FRANCETTE

With a sharp breath, she did just that. Her mind didn’t want her to continue down that portentous path. She wasn’t ready to be thinking those thoughts yet.  Except, she didn’t usually remember her dreams. This time she did.

[beanmom-blogs]

FFXIV Write 2023 Prompt #5 - Barbarous "Torn, Raw, Broken"

Cruel. Confusing. Contradictory. She’d handed her heart over so carefully, with a hope in her eyes and a trust in her soul, that he wouldn’t be any of those things. That he wouldn’t be cruel. He wouldn’t confuse her. He wouldn’t contradict things he’d already said. Brutish. Boorish. Barbarous. That was how he treated her, afterward. No longer trusting her, no longer holding warmth to his eyes, no longer speaking his words from his heart.

What had she done? She was the one that had been attacked, unprovoked. A scar on her palm to her wrist that would never completely go away. The woman she knew by her face, by her voice, by the little bits of appearance she wasn’t able to cover fully. Nothing. She’d done nothing. Nothing but being in a relationship with him, which was on all appearances as being Happy. Hopeful. Heartwarming. The things the woman had wanted from her own twisted lie of a relationship. 

Lie after lie began to pile, lips being sealed and holding back the truth. Whenever she’d get close, he’d divert attention to some speck of a not-quite-something that she’d done wrong. Nit picking in other times, things that hadn’t mattered before. And when she actually did do something wrong? It was blown to such an astronomical proportion that she had no way of recovering from the act. What once had been Gentle was now twisted and bent. What once had been Grand was now ash and dust. What once had been Glorious was now nothing but a trap.

She tore her heart out, what was left of it. He’d already torn most of it out, laid it on the floor so prettily, pointed for everyone to stomp on it. She tore herself away, and left it there.

Or so she thought.

Now, here was something Softer. Sensible. Stubborn. But could she look at her heart and see it being repaired? Did she think she could handle this again? Would it be the same? Would she hold herself out, raw and broken only to be ripped into shreds once more?  Or was this true?

[beanmom-blogs]

#Junelezen - 15. Romance : Francette never thought she'd find it again, didn't even want it, but when it happens and you can't deny it? Featuring @delightfulvoidstudent and their lovely Auberi!