#garlean-confessions

[spidersfanfics]

Third Time’s the Charm

Cid nan Garlond x Nero tol Sceva | Confession | Kismesisstude

Nero, as he is prone to doing, tries to leave mysteriously in the night yet again. But this time, Cid catches him.

Taking place in a nebulous, probably not canon-compliant space after Shadowbringers? Because although I have not gotten there yet (pls no spoilers), I can only assume Nero continues the trend of his little disappearing act. 

“Leaving us already, Tol Scaeva?”

Nero froze in the midst of packing his suitcase and sighed heavily. “Have I been caught?” He asked without turning around. Not that he needed to in order to pinpoint that familiar voice. Cid nan Garlond, the bastard.

Cid chuckled from where he stood. No doubt leaning smugly against the door frame. Blocking the exit with his stocky build. Burly arms crossed across a broad chest that had filled out infuriatingly nicely since their youth… Nero was going to give him the satisfaction of turning around first though. Or admitting any of that. Especially since he was still talking. “You’ve pulled your vanishing act often enough that I figured I’d beat you to the punch this time.”

“Oh gods, I’m becoming predictable,” Nero lamented dramatically and forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand. “Look what you’ve done to me, Garlond.”

“What I’ve done to you?” Cid repeated incredulously, barely containing laughter. “Nero, I’ve never once met anyone who could do anything to you that you didn’t want.” The door clicked shut audibly and footsteps approached. Nero tensed up instinctively, awaiting whatever was to come. But Cid stopped a little ways away and sighed. “Which is why I’m not going to try and convince you to stay right now.”

Nero blinked, well that wasn’t what he was expecting. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times. “What are you here for then?”

A hand appeared in Nero’s peripheral vision as Cid reached around to place a gentle hand on his chin and tilted his face around. “Nero,” he said firmly but softly, “Can you look at me, please?”

Nero allowed himself to be manhandled for just long enough to face his dearest rival before pulling away with a scowl. “Don’t baby me, Garlond,” he sneered. “Just tell me what you want so I can be on my way.” He hoped it wasn’t clear how much he was shaking and he crossed his arms behind his back to try and hide his nerves. He tried to tell himself that he just wasn’t used to Cid being so forward. But it was hard, standing so impossibly close to this lovably insufferable boy scout. “What’re you scared to miss me? I know my stunning intellect and roguish charm are hard to come by around here.”

Cid laughed again and shook his head. But did as he was told and backed off a little. “Just wanted to look you in the eyes for this next bit. But I guess with your sour attitude I may as well have gone to the kitchen for a lemon and asked it to listen.”

“Oh well aren’t you clever with your words,” Nero scoffed. He straightened to his full height so he could properly tower over Cid but for once it didn’t do much good. He suddenly felt impossibly small. “You’re still stalling, Garlond.”

“Quite the astute observation.”

“Cid.”

The man in question widened his eyes. Nero just about never called him by his first name. He must be really irritated. Better get this over quick then. “Right, right, sorry. It’s just that. Twice now you’ve escaped right when I thought we’d finally learned to get along. And twice now that means I worked up the courage just a touch too late to say what I’ve wanted to say. I wasn’t going to let a third chance slip through my fingers.”

Nero shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “We do get along,” he said, purposefully dodging the point of Cid’s explanation. “Or at least, I like to think I get along just fine. You’re the one who keeps rekindling our childish squabbling.”

Cid smirked, “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Whatever, that’s hardly the point.” Cid reached up to run a hand through his hair as he considered his next words. “Ever since we ended up more or less back on the same side of this conflict, I’ve wanted to have a proper talk. But we’ve been so busy helping the Warrior of Light that the time never seemed right. Which is when I realized, the time was never going to be right. Not in the way that I wanted it. So I’m just seizing the moment now and seeing what happens.”

Nero blinked, “What in the world could be so important that you of all people would fret over talking about it? I often feel like I’m doomed to listen to your lecturing for the rest of eternity.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cid retorted, “You can’t get enough of your own voice. Though I guess the irony here is that you’ve also been avoiding this talk. So I just have one question for you. When are you finally going to stop running away and address this thing between us?”

“I don’t run away. And there is no thing,” Nero snapped. Then, when Cid just shot him a silent, unimpressed look, he cleared his throat awkwardly and added, “Even if there was, what makes you think I want to talk about it?”

Cid rolled his eyes with an amused smile, “Well what if that’s what I want? Really Nero, would it kill you to think about someone else for a change?”

“I told you not to make fun of me,” Nero frowned.

“I’m not.”

“Of course you are,” Nero insisted and at this point he was starting to actually get angry. Who was Cid to just barge into his room in the middle of the night and try to tell him how he should feel? Even worse, he might be right. But he would never give Cid of all people the satisfaction of knowing that. He’d sooner see his life’s work destroyed than admit that he was in love with Cid nan Garlond.

“Coming in here and acting like you know anything at all about how I feel. Meanwhile I know very well you hate me so what’s the point in me liking you?”

Well shit. Time to get out the torches and burn his workshop to the ground, he supposed. Because there he goes again running his big mouth before thinking for more than a second. “You really think I hate you?” Cid asked. “For someone so smart you can be such an idiot sometimes.”

“Ah, so you admit that I’m smart.”

“When have I ever not,” Cid laughed, “Certainly not with you snapping at my heels all throughout our youth. Success meant nothing if it wasn’t to keep up with you, Nero. But you’re changing the subject again. How are you so sure that I hate you?”

Nero’s unshakable confidence was faltering. The walls that he’d worked so hard to build around his heart were crumbling in the space of an instant and for once he had no idea what to do about it. “Don’t you?”

“Of course not.” Cid smiled gently, his eyes filled with adoration. “I am who I am because of you. How could I hate you? I find you a nuisance and a brat and a reckless fool. But I do not hate you.”

Nero scowled, “Well you should. Because I hate you.”

“Do you?” Cid chuckled, “That’s not what you said a moment ago.”

“Shut up,” And now it was Nero’s turn to grab Cid by the face. Although his grip was far less gentle. He wrapped his hand around the lower half of Cid’s face and pulled the man towards him. “You and I are rivals. That’s the point. That’s how it has to be.”

Cid grinned as best as he could with Nero’s fingers digging into his cheeks. “Why is that?”

“Because if we were anything else we might tear this world apart,” Nero answered. “As it is, all we do is tear each other apart.” His breathing was heavy and his last words felt like a confession. “And for now that seems so much safer.” Maybe it was.

“Nero,” Cid’s voice had an exasperated tone that was oh so familiar. “Can’t we have just one civil conversation without someone ending up in the chirurgeon's wing?”

“Nope.”

That coaxed yet another laugh out of Cid. Nero was really on a roll tonight, despite his best efforts. “Well then why don’t you go ahead and test your hypothesis? See if the world explodes if you just take what you want for once. Rather than what you think you should want.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Nero growled in frustration and pulled Cid even closer. Finally crossing that last ilm between them. And he kissed him. Open mouthed and hungry. That growl of frustration quickly morphed into one of need and want. He needed Cid and he wanted to stay. Or rather, he wanted to want to stay. But when they broke apart panting, Nero’s poker face had already returned. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

Nero shook his head. “It’s too suffocating. I just can’t do it.”

Cid sighed then reached up to run a comforting touch across Nero’s cheek. “I understand. Go, do whatever it is that you do when you’re not with us. And then, when we need you most, you’ll be back. Right? That’s how it always seems to be with you. Until then I’ll be waiting.”

“Gar- Cid. I lo-”

“Shh,” Cid shook his head. “Save it. Tell me when you mean it. Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. For now, I just want you to know your options. And I trust you’ll be smart enough to pick the right one.”

“So you do think I’m smart.”

“An absolute genius.”

[headcanons-n-shit]

since there was already a prompt abt pining can i ask for hcs on how the ffxiv boys (+leofard?) would go about expressing their interest in a particularly dense wol? 😊

We do love a dense motherfuker

Thancred is fucjing suffering over here. He cannot possibly make his intentions any more obvious. The problem is that hes accidentally played himself-- hes spent so long disguising his feelings as jokes, or as ploys on missions, and now you just assume that his flirting and holding your hand and wanting to be in your space all the time is just what the two of you do. He ends up having to go all rose petals and sappy love confession under the moonlight like some kind of storybook love interest. Its so sappy, embarrassing, but its also so, so sweet.

Urianger is, unfortunately, painfully Sharlyan about the whole thing. He gives you nice paper, expensive ink, masterwork tools, intricate glasswear for your alchemy lab. Practical, highquality armor. A delicately embroidered handkerchief. He thinks hes being overly forward with his affections, you think hes just being a really good friend, yshtola would rather drown herself than watch the rest of this soap opera play out.

Literally what else does G'raha need to do to prove his devotion to you??? The man unwound time and unraveled space just to be by your side. He was practically your sugardaddy your entire time on the First. He almost, almost thought you were flirting back with him when you brought him food from the Last Stand, and then Alphinaud and alisae and krile trotted in behind you and it took every ounce of his Exarch discipline not to retreat with his tail between his legs. Pls this man is suffering.

Estinien literally can not. Look me in the eyes. This stinky dragoon has spent a good half his life behind an armet. He is a horrible mix of country bumpkin, career soldier, aymeric's half-assed attempts to pound courtly decorum into estiniens dumb empty head, and Nidhoggs instincts. He wants to cook you food, drag you into a corner and kiss you silly, send you flowers, and bring you something he killed with his bare hands. He ends up doing all four. Not necessarily in that order.

Aymeric is dying. You are going to be the death of him. He has gone through great pains to discover your favorite flower and have them always displayed in your room. He has written you letters full of poetry. He has showered you with gifts. He has invited you to dine with him. At this point the other nobles are asking whether its going to be a spring or summer wedding, and he doesnt know how to explain how you are still woefully oblivious bc he cant explain it himself.

Haurchefant gave you a LITERAL DOWRY. He handed you the reins to an extremely expensive war-trained black de chocobo in front of everyone whos ever mattered to him and also half of ishgard, and then he had to stand there dying internally while you praised him for being a "good friend". There are bets not on whether hes going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his room to. Ahem. Prove his devotions. But rather on how long it will take him to break.

Sidurgu. Barely has memories of the Orl traditions around courtship. His mother had often regaled him with stories of how she had courted his father. Food, presense and friendship, proofs of skill. And yes, it frustrates him that you seem to brush off his attempts, but. Well. It took almost five years for his mother and father to get together, from the way they told it. Hes learned a lot for your sake, and for rielles. He can learn patience too.

Leofard is a pirate. He doesnt dance around the bush, he strikes when the metal is hot and takes what he wants. It works well with garlean airships and the odd unfortunate merchant. Not. So much with you. One, because your consent and emotions are important to him. Two, because you are so. Fucking. Dense. He steals silks and jewels and fancy foods for you, spends time with you, saved your life from diabolos, told you his sad life story. Hes one step from throwing himself at you like some fainting dame, and its embarrassing.

(Hes not gonns stop tho)

[dirty-ffxiv-confessions]

Confession: WHO ELSE IS JACKING OFF TO THANCRED IN HIS GARLEMALD SNOW FIT? cALL ME A GARLEAN BLIZZARD CAUSE IM ABOUT TO COVER HIM IN WHITE.

[xiv-wolfram]

WolfBahn Ship Summary - Part 1

Prequel

I realized the comics are... a lot. So I decided to make a short summary of my Wolfram x Raubahn ship. As I started to write I realized it was also... a lot. So clearly WolfBahn is simply... a lot. Eh, this is still way less to read than the comics, enjoy.

Warnings - imperfect neurodivergent protagonist, voidsent, domestic argument that turned a teeny tiny bit physical

Ul'dah

Wolfram Vought and Raubahn Aldynn met 15 years before A Realm Reborn at ages 25/29 in Thanalan. Wolfram (A recently reformed bandit, Gyr Abanian refugee, and the future Warrior of Light) wanted gladiator training as he was accustomed to a rapier. Raubahn, a gladiator (for the guild, not a prisoner), just thought he was trying to pick him up after a tourney. They ended up talking and hit it off almost instantly, bonding over being from the same country, shared interests, and good ol' fashioned Garlean hatred. After hours of walking around Ul'dah conversing, Rau had given up on his assumption that Wolf was interested in him romantically but was happy to have a new friend. Demisexual Wolfram just needed a bit of time to get to know him and surprised Raubahn with a kiss after they had talked all night. Wolfram decided to stay in Ul'dah, but not as a gladiator. He became a cook at the Quicksand.

They fell in love unnaturally quickly and lived together happily for 2 years. Raubahn appreciated Wolf's sincerity, sense of humor, and being non-judgemental and supportive. He even enjoyed his empathic abilities. Wolfram loved how the gladiator could keep him grounded, admired his heroic nature, that he helped him calm down during panic attacks, and generally made him feel safe (the dude has trauma™). They were great friends as well as partners. Wolfram taught Raubahn how to cook. Raubahn taught Wolfram more fighting techniques. They enjoyed sparring and fighting monsters. Exploring together. They’d a whole future planned out. Wolfram was going to propose they be eternally bonded, but couldn't in good conscience until he told Raubahn about his past. One night, after a horrible nightmare, he confessed. 

6 years prior, the Decurio who led the small group of Garleans occupying his village requested Wolfram’s young sister’s hand in marriage in exchange for going easier on the family’s inn. He overheard his parents considering the offer. Wolf had been secretly studying his grandmother’s tomes on void magic and in his anger summoned a hellhound. Something went wrong and the voidsent that arrived was far more powerful than he could control. It possessed him and forced him to watch as it transformed, using his body to not only kill the Garleans but his whole village, including his family. His Mhachi grandmother did a ritual to bind it before her death, saying it was still within him and he would have to control his emotions to keep it imprisoned. (He didn't mention to Rau that the voidsent often talked to him.) Wolf then fled to The Black Shroud and became a bandit while adjusting to his new reality.

Raubahn was shocked but kept his poker face and asked for some details. Wolf admitted to killing several other bandits who he thought were a threat but insisted he only robbed rich travelers. After a few years, he had gotten control over the hellhound and wanted a more stable life, so he moved to Ul’dah. He said he was so glad when he met Raubahn because the gladiator was able to calm him down when the voidsent was causing him to panic and so clearly a good person that maybe he could help Wolf become good too.

Raubahn was horrified at his partner's actions and the fact that he'd lied and put him in danger for the entirety of their relationship, but even more so that Wolfram refused to accept responsibility for his own decisions and insisted on blaming the Garleans. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, he had robbed and murdered people he didn’t need to. Rau questioned if Wolf actually cared for him or if it was a selfish love born from wanting to be taught ‘goodness’. Wolfram seemed to have changed now - but could Raubahn ever be sure? Could he ever trust the man who would do those things and refuse to accept the guilt for them? The conversation got away from them both. Wolfram was defensive, panicked, and pushy. Raubahn was angry at Wolf’s insistence on his innocence, downplaying what he did. The gladiator tried to walk out, Wolf tried to stop him, Rau shoved him away then left, telling him if he ever saw him again he’d have him arrested. Raubahn quickly calmed down and returned to apologize but Wolf had already gone. They wouldn't speak for many years.

The Shroud

Wolfram traveled back to the Black Shroud and quickly acknowledged to himself that Raubahn had been right about everything. He would have immediately apologized and accepted the guilt, but he was terrified of going to jail if Rau made good on his threat. In part, because it didn’t sound like a pleasant experience, but also because he could be made to fight in the Bloodsands and was worried about what would happen if he lost control of the hellhound in a crowded coliseum in the middle of a large city. After a month-long bender (in which he realized alcohol would quiet the voidsent’s voice) Wolfram decided to join the Conjurer's Guild to learn to heal and become a better person on his own. Raubahn was right about that too - it had been selfish to expect the love of someone to fix him. Besides, white magic would become useful for something he had to take care of if he ever made it back to Gyr Abania.

Red Magic

After 6 years Wolfram heard that Raubahn had bought the Coliseum, joined the Syndicate, and reformed the Immortal Flames. The conjurer gathered the courage to head to Thanalan to offer his services to the Flames - hopefully winning Raubahn's forgiveness. On the way, he ran into a fellow Gyr Abanian named X'Rhun Tia. The miqo'te had a unique fighting style that combined magic with a rapier. They got along well and X’Rhun offered to train Wolfram in red magic. Wolf couldn't pass up the opportunity, deciding he'd been a fool to believe he could return to Ul'dah anyway.

Calamity

For the next 3 years, Wolfram trained with X’Rhun, quickly mastering Red Magic and helping his friend find more apprentices to teach. Then came the 7th Umbral Calamity. Wolfram was away in Kugane at the time but once word reached that the Eorzean Alliance would be fighting Garleans at Carteneu he teleported himself to the South Shroud and rushed to make it to the battle in time. He was almost there when the moon cracked open. Wolf couldn’t help but watch as fire rained from the sky. Once it was over, he saw from afar that Raubahn had survived. He couldn’t bring himself to approach the General, but knowing he was safe was enough. Wolfram quickly started aiding the injured soldiers. He healed many before the Echo visions of the dying overwhelmed him.

The next 5 years were spent in well-masked anxiety - assuming that the voidsent had gained the ability to show Wolfram nightmares while he was awake. Something he didn’t tell a soul. Helping victims of the calamity as a member of the Adventurer’s Guild was a nice distraction. He didn’t make much gil but it was enough to buy a small apartment in Limsa Lominsa. In all that time Wolf kept tabs on Raubahn (easily, he was famous after all). Wolfram's love never faded, but he learned to live with the pain and focus on helping others as a way to make amends for his past. He was so resolved to not even date that it often worried his best friend and roommate Rhun. 

Raubahn had been busy in those 13 years, but everyone knows his story. He adopted his son Pipin. He became a wealthy politician and military commander. He did *try* dating, but didn't find anyone he could see a future with. As his political power rose so did the rumors. Simply dancing with his friend Merlwyb at an event had sparked gossip and accusations of collusion. He gave up on public relationships completely after joining the Syndicate for fear of what the Monetarists would do to any partner of his. The General did have a few casual lovers who respected his need for discretion but his focus was on leading the city he’d come to truly call home. Raubahn often found himself wondering if Wolfram was still alive but couldn't track the former bandit down due to his penchant for using an alias.

Part 2 - A Realm Reborn

[wayward-travelers]

Of mercy, rage and traitors

The Garleans' bodies laid still on the forest floor. Unconscious, some more hurt than others, all more fortunate than the man kneeling before her in forced penitence. Roots had taken hold of him, keeping him firmly on the ground, though he was still free to move his head to look at the Viera.

He didn't.

From her best guesses—his bruised face made difficult to see clearly—he was anticipating the movements of her boots. In fear they'd leave more contusions, certainly, though she hadn't touched him yet.

But Inge didn't move. She spoke, instead, each of her words enunciated clearly.

"I swore to myself a long time ago that I would help those in need and use my magic to preserve life over taking it.

I also promised my mother I would never leave our homeland... It has now been close to two decades since I have last seen her."

The Hyur stilled, his breath barely audible despite his broken nose and bloody mouth.

"You will listen and you will listen carefully, Laurentius Daye, because there are two things I absolutely detest in this world, and it is traitors and repeating myself.

Do I have your attention?"

No reaction. The tip of her staff pressed against his chin, forcing him to raise his head and meet her gaze.

"You can nod."

He nodded.

"Good."

The staff retreated as she breathed in slowly.

In involuntary mimicry, he did the same.

"We will return to Gridania together and you will not resist arrest. You will confess your crimes and take full responsibility for your actions. You will answer the Wood Wailers' questions in good faith and accept the judgement at the end of your trial. If you do so, I will ensure you are judged and treated fairly. If you do not or try to escape..."

She planted her staff at her side, her gaze never freeing the Hyur's.

"... I will find you again." She kept silent for a few seconds. "Is this arrangement amenable to you?"

He seemed to hesitate. With a flick of her hand, she lifted the silencing spell.

"You can speak. - Yes. - Yes, what? - I will do as you say. Ma'am. - We have an understanding, then."

Another flick of her hand and the roots that kept him in place returned to the soil. For a moment, she thought he was about to pick his lance and attack again. He didn't.

There was hope for him, it seemed.

"Get on your feet."

[ffxiv-swarm]

a parting at castrum fluminis

This didn't fit any particular prompt this year but I wrote it a while back and REALLY wanted to post it so here you go

& & &

Yotsuyu is dead.

So is Asahi, but that’s less important. Yotsuyu—Tsuyu—is dead. She’d been given a second chance, she could have done so much with it, and now she is dead. (Because of Asahi, because her brother used her parents against her, because he wanted an excuse—oh, Ritanelle could kill him a second time If she had the chance.)

Alas, there are more immediate concerns than vengeance, no matter how much she wants to scream and incinerate Asahi’s corpse until the pyre is visible from Garlemald. Asahi hadn’t come to Doma alone, and instead of sensibly fleeing for their lives his underlings are still here. Still here and talking.

...Alright, she can recognize when she’s being unfair. Maxima quo Priscus isn’t a bad sort, despite the actions of his superiors. He’s tall and handsome and grave, and he has never once called any of them savages in her hearing. But gods, his explanations of the truly minute details inherent to Garlean political parties could just as easily have come before all this, in a much more pleasant setting. Over drinks in the Kienkan, maybe, instead of where they are now—near a dozen people hovering awkwardly around each other in a Castrum Fluminis meeting room, forced to sit on the floor or lean against walls for lack of chairs.

(She’s summoned one, and gotten Titan-Egi to hover behind Gantsetseg and Avery so the three of them—who have just been fighting an entire primal, thank you—don’t all fall over. It wouldn’t be dignified, and they need all the dignity they can get.)

“I admit,” Hien eventually says coolly, “I am surprised you are still here.” His hand rests lightly on his sword, a silent warning.

Maxima is unarmed, as are the other Garleans; they left their gunblades at the door as a symbol of trust. He appears composed at a casual glance, but if he were an Elezen his ears would be twitching nonstop. “I entertain thoughts of escape even now,” he confesses, and Rita finds herself impressed by how casually he says it. “But our negotiations have yet to reach a satisfying conclusion. The ambassador insisted that the summoning spelled an end to our mission here, but it seemed to me there was more to the tale...”

His gaze drifts to Ritanelle, his eyes narrowing. So does Avery’s; he’s frowning, his ears laying back. Even Gan, who’s a full three-quarters asleep and leaning heavily against Rita’s leg, perks up.

She grimaces. Right. She’s forgotten to tell them about the vision she got off Asahi’s sword. “Well,” she starts. “Maybe you’d all better sit down for this. It’s going to be rather a long story. You see, I had a vision of that pint-sized arsehole’s past...”

It is a long story, punctuated by the outrage of her assembled listeners. She’s barely set the stage and gotten to just who was giving Asahi his marching orders before Gan is on her feet snarling and Maxima has to actually raise his voice to restore order.

“Zenos is dead,” Hien says, shaking his head. “He took his own life after the battle in Ala Mhigo. I saw his body with my own eyes!”

Gan’s sat back down, but her tail is thwapping restlessly against the floor as she growls, “Bloody told you we should’ve burnt it an’ pissed on the ashes, but nobody ever fuckin’ listens to me, do they?!”

“I listened,” Alisaie grumbles. “Next time I’ll do it myself.”

Maxima winces, looking anywhere but at her. Good; he has some sense of self-preservation. “Forgive me, but Lord Zenos is very much alive—he granted our party an audience prior to our departure. That he was gravely wounded is certain, but his recovery appeared to be proceeding apace.”

“’Gravely wounded’?” Avery repeats, staring at him. “His throat was slashed from ear to ear!”

Alphinaud frowns, twining his braid through his fingers. He’s silent for a moment as he thinks. “I am afraid I share my comrades’ confusion. The man's death was confirmed and his remains interred. These are matters of public record.”

Maxima’s political poker face is even better than Aymeric’s—but then again, he doesn’t have Elezen ears to give the game away. Nevertheless, his tone suggests he’s seriously revising his opinions of Eorzean sanity. “...Hmm,” he mutters finally, rubbing his beard. “I have no doubt you believe what you say.”

Rita catches Avery’s gaze and rolls her eyes, mouthing, Feckin’ hells, just call us madmen and have done with it. She’s rewarded by a rare, brilliant upward twitch of the man’s lips.

Maxima is still reasoning his way through this. “But what then is the explanation? That an impostor has infiltrated the innermost circle of the imperial court? The idea is inconceivable, absurd...but worthy of investigation nonetheless. Our movement can ill afford to have a highly placed pretender undermining our efforts.”

Hien clears his throat. “Your efforts may yet bear fruit. Tell me, what is to become of our prisoner exchange? Though we have already taken custody of our conscripts, we have yet to release your imperial comrades. Do you still intend to collect them?”

The assembled Garleans stiffen, one or two of them eyeing Hien warily. Maxima blinks, and then nods. “Ah. Yes, as the late ambassador's second-in-command, it falls to me to speak on the Empire's behalf. And I am happy to confirm our intent to proceed according to the original agreement.”

Hien visibly relaxes, nodding to his nearest aide. “Then let us be about it. 'Twould be a pity to abandon such a promising beginning.”

Maxima pushes his glasses back up his nose, but not soon enough to hide the open relief on his face. “Indeed. You have my thanks, Lord Hien. As soon as our people are secure aboard our airship, we shall depart straightways for Garlemald. And you have my world that we will be investigating this matter of Lord Zenos.”

Rita slumps back in her chair, letting out a sigh of relief. It’s not until now, with the pressure easing off, that her exhaustion is sinking in. Yes, Zenos—or something wearing his skin—is apparently back from the dead, but that’s not an immediate problem. She can always kill him again, and this time he won’t have a body to come back to. She’ll make sure of it. (In the back of her mind, she wonders what Zenos’s spirit is doing if his body is walking around. Gods, she hopes the Resonance doesn’t let him hop to another body. One of him was entirely enough.)

She’s only vaguely aware of Alphinaud’s movements across the room until he’s halfway to the door, and then—

“Might I accompany you to the capital?” he asks Maxima, as though that’s an entirely normal question and not utterly deranged.

Shock rips through her like a levinbolt. “Alphinaud!” she snaps. “Are you bloody mad?!”

She’s not the only one demanding an explanation. Gan is on her feet, yelling at him that he’s going to get shot as soon as he crosses the border. Hien is openly baffled. Avery is asking, rather loudly, if Alphinaud has thought this through at all. Alisaie has her twin by the shoulders and is shouting in his face.

Finally, Avery must have enough of all the yelling, because he barks, “Enough!” in a tone so sharp and icy that even the Garleans snap to nervous attention and Gan closes her mouth with an audible click. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I’m sure Master Alphinaud has his reasons, and I’m sure we would all like to know what they are.”

Alphinaud has to wrench himself out of his sister’s grip first. Brushing off his coat, he straightens up to huff, “Impostor or no, if Zenos was instructing Asahi on the finer points of ritual summoning, then experience tells us there is an Ascian waiting in the wings. Without our knowledge and expertise, our new friends will be hard-pressed to contend with a foe for whom death is but a minor inconvenience. They need our help.”

“They’re our friends now?” Gan mutters. Ritanelle finds it hard to disagree.

Maxima actually lowers his glasses, the better to blink at him. “Were you...indeed willing to share your knowledge of this enemy...we would not shun your counsel.”

Hien is frowning at the room in general, but it deepens when his gaze rests on Alphinaud. “You truly mean to do this? In full knowledge of the danger?”

He inhales slowly, and lets it out just as slowly. For a moment, he seems older than his eighteen summers. His gaze sweeps the room, lingering on each of them in turn before it falls on Avery, Gan, and Ritanelle again. “I have seen the Warriors of Light risk their lives on countless occasions. Next to them, I am scarce more than a distraction on the battlefield. But in the meeting room or the audience chamber, there I can make a difference. I can strike bargains, forge ties, and change minds. And where better to do these things than in the home of our old enemy?”

His voice is full of conviction, never wavering. His fists are clenched. Rita knows before she even opens her mouth that he won’t be swayed from his path, but gods, he is so young. “Alphinaud.”

He frowns at her. “Yes?”

“I...” Her grip tightens on the folds of her coat. The words stick in her throat. Finally, after a long moment where she deliberately does not blink, she says, “...Good luck, mate.”

Gan is glaring at Maxima. “You,” she says coldly. “You bring him back safe and sound, or I’ll rip your heart out an’ feed it to you. Clear?”

Maxima swallows. “...As crystal, Miss Bayaqud.”

And that, apparently, is that. The sole bright side is that it does take time to mobilize several hundred captured Imperial soldiers and their personal effects, not to mention the refueling and pre-flight checks for the Garlean airships, so nobody is leaving immediately. They head back to the Kienkan so Alphinaud has the chance to pack his things and say his farewells, during which they all pretend they don’t see Alisaie wipe away her tears. The wind coming off the One River makes the eyes water, that’s all.

That’s certainly Rita’s excuse when she goes outside to watch the aetheryte revolve. The blue light is soothing. Really.

Footsteps catch her attention. She knows that tread—light, steady, as careful as a tightrope walker—so even before she swivels her ears in that direction she says, “Hey, Avery.”

“...Miss Rita,” he murmurs.

It’s always miss or my lady with him, never just Rita. She sort of hates it. Aren’t we friends? she wants to ask. Urianger is friendlier to me, and I’ve actually threatened to kill his cryptic arse. But apparently Ishgardian nobility beats manners into their sons with a heavy stick, so she’s been forced to get used to it. She glances at him over her shoulder to find him busily cleaning his glasses with a small cloth. “You alright there?”

He takes a deep breath and puts his glasses on, his expression grave as he meets her eyes. “I’m going with him.”

What, Rita does not say, mostly because she’s temporarily speechless. She can’t even make her mouth open in preparation for a protest—an argument—anything. She’s vaguely aware that her fingers have gone cold, that she’s whirled to face him, that there’s a curling strand of hair caught in the hinge of his glasses. Her chest hurts, and belatedly she sucks in a breath that scorches her lungs.

No.

“No,” she says, her voice weak even to her own ears. “Avery—”

“Master Alphinaud needs a bodyguard,” he says simply. “We can hardly let him go alone.”

He’s not wrong. But just in this moment, she doesn’t care. Garlemald is malms away, a frozen pit of vipers filled with people who hate them and everything they stand for. Forget walking into the dragon’s den—he’ll be walking right into its jaws, and she’ll be powerless to pull him out. If he gets on that airship, she very well might never see him again; she doubts they’ll think to ship his corpse home for burial. Hells, he might not even make it there; she’s seen Garlean airships, and there are plenty of places to arrange fatal accidents if one was so inclined. She doesn’t think Maxima would, but his troops? She doesn’t know them. Can’t trust them. And if anything happens to Avery—if, gods forbid, he dies...

The lump in her throat threatens to choke her. She wonders if this is what swooning actually feels like in the moments before your body hits the ground. “Avery,” she says again.

She must look a wreck, because his gaze softens. “I’ll bring him back safely,” he murmurs. “You have my word.”

Alphinaud isn’t who she’s worried about in this moment. She swallows roughly and finally, finally manages a proper sentence. “Do the others know yet?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Oh, this impossible man. She swallows back tears. “You’re a bloody idjit,” she informs him, “and if you don’t come back I’ll never feckin’ forgive you.”

A faint smile curves his lips, lighting his eyes. And then he bows, which is a blessing because it means he doesn’t see how hard she’s blinking. She will not cry. "I could do naught otherwise, my lady."

My lady, again. She snorts wryly, shaking her head. “Hope you know I’m holding you to that,” she mutters, but she likes to think she knows him by now. If he says he’ll come back, then...well, he will at least try. But she’ll still feel better if he goes off with a little extra insurance.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and pulls off her bronze ear clasps. They’re surprisingly heavy for such little things, but thinner metal wouldn’t hold up to daily wear or the thorny vines etched in relief on their surfaces. Hundreds of years ago, her people wore clasps made of precious metal and inlaid with gemstones, but cheap bronze is all she’s ever had. She only takes them off to bathe, too afraid of losing them otherwise.

Avery stares at her as she presses them into his hand. “Miss Rita...?”

She meets his eyes and makes herself smile. “For luck. Put ‘em on.” She can get new ones. He needs all the help he can get.

He blinks. “My lady, are you sure—”

“I could do it for you.”

He actually blushes. It’s adorable. “Ah. That is...quite alright, thank you, I can manage.”

His skin is darker and warmer than hers, but the clasps still look good gleaming on his earlobes. This time, her smile isn’t feigned.

Avery and Alphinaud will be fine. She just knows it.

[theblackestnight-ffxiv]

[ffxivwrite2024] prompt 9: lend an ear

The last note faded with her breath, and D’zinhla lowered the flute from her lips. She held herself back from the question that nagged at her, instead letting the music settle, and hoping it had jogged something, some memory, some faded recollection. Not on her part, but on that of her audience.

G'raha leaned against the wall, his head bowed down toward his crossed arms and his eyes closed. All that betrayed his awareness was the movement of his tailtip, which flicked in time with the music she had just finished playing. Evidence that he was going over it in his mind, but the lack of immediate response made her worry that this may yet be a dead end after all.

Finally he moved, his hand resting by his mouth in a considering gesture. “You’ve brought me a bit of a riddle, my friend,” he said, his bright eyes meeting hers. “And I confess that I cannot give you a confident answer, much to my dismay.”

Her ears did droop, a bit, but she had steeled herself for this. “Well, as I said, a long shot!” she laughed softly, trying to make light of her disappointment.

“Indeed, but don’t count me out just yet.” He gave her a fond smile. “Because something about that melody did feel maddeningly familiar.”

Her ears perked. “Oh, truly?” she asked, not bothering to hide her excitement.

He put up a steadying hand. “I’m afraid I have little more to give you at the moment. But I trust you’ve transcribed this tune?”

Grinning, she reached over to her desk, where she’d had a carefully-penned sheet of music ready and waiting.

G’raha accepted it with an eager look. “You’ve come quite prepared, and it shouldn’t surprise me in the slightest, where music is concerned.”

Reminding herself that she would do best to temper her own excitement, she took a steadying breath. “And if it turns out you can’t give me anything… Well, I’ve merely transcribed what I heard whistled by a Roegadyn dockworker in Radz-at-Han, who first heard the tune many years ago from a Corvosi Seeker. There’s plenty of opportunities there for things to have been misheard, misremembered, and mistaken–and that’s assuming it’s even a Corvosi song in the first place.”

“How I wish I could take you there myself, rather than rely upon my own challenged recollections,” G’raha said softly. She felt a soft pang; she, too, wished she could go on such a journey with her dear friend, and experience his home with him as her guide. Yet matters since the Final Days still held Corvos in a state of unrest. The defeat of the Garlean occupation had been merely the first step in what would prove to be a long road to recovery for the people there, and D’zinhla felt uneasy at the idea of going there on a pleasure-jaunt. If she were to be recognized as the Warrior of Light…well, it didn’t take Alphinaud’s skill at statecraft to recognize that could cause some very unnecessary complications to whatever delicate matters were underway there. 

“Still,” G’raha continued, “I hope that I can give you something more than a mere feeling of familiarity. Because you are right, there is quite the tradition of Lydian modalities in Corvosi music. Tension, but one that serves to emphasize an uplifting aura. I’m of the mind that it’s the beautiful environs of Corvos–beautiful, but with their own perils–that inspired such sounds.”

She nodded, leaning forward in her chair. “Exactly! Environmental cues can be a powerful inspiration for music. Even such things as the note progression of a bird song can end up reflected as a common motif.”

There was a brightness in his eyes, and for a moment she felt a memory rise, of a campfire among glowing crystals, scholars sharing tales, and a much younger G’raha eager to share songs with this adventurer sharing the fire. “And how the environment can shape how sounds are heard–how well the notes at each extreme of the scale carry!”

She smiled, blinking away a mist that had come to her eyes. It was a shame their work had kept them from this sort of thing. Not just her research into a bit of a song that she wanted to pursue to its origin, but this, sitting together, speaking of music in general. Those nights at the campfire had been full of them, with the two of them eager to share their own songs with one another. She really ought to have made something like this happen much sooner, and repeat more often. 

“Are you alright, my friend?” He took a step toward her, concern obvious on his face.

“Oh, yes, sorry, I-” she shook her head and smiled. “I was just thinking about how nice this is–the two of us, talking about music like this. Like we did back then, and haven’t done nearly enough of. And how I really should try to make it happen more often.”

He paused, and he smiled, with his ears at a relaxed angle, as his tail swept side to side in an expression of quiet pleasure. “I quite agree, Zinhla,” he said, his voice much softer. “I treasure any time spent with you, but I too have missed our meetings over music, with no greater responsibilities as our reason to meet. Perhaps we could attempt to make a monthly meeting of it?”

She tilted her head, then nodded. “I think that would be quite reasonable to try for, yes. We both have full understanding of each other’s responsibilities, so we certainly understand that sometimes things come up. But, one day a month… That can be done.” She looked at him with a bright smile.

“I’d make some statement of doing all within my power to make it happen, but such pledges are quite weighty, aren’t they?” He smiled. “But you are right, we shouldn’t need it to come to that.”

“Hah, no, not to that extent!” She leaned back and flicked her tail, feeling the sensation that, were she a bit more relaxed, she might even start purring. “Thank you, Raha.”

“And you have my gratitude as well, Zinhla. This has been a- a much appreciated diversion.”

Even if nothing came of the musical puzzle, she couldn’t be at all disappointed with what had come of her friend’s assistance today.

[velnica]

So I made this poll after seeing a few people's HC about his age and I thought I'd make my own! Mostly so I can keep my timeline straight but also I don't think I've done this before. Buckle up this is going to get LONG. The bulk of it is under the cut.

TL;DR in my HC, Sanson is 20 going on 21 because he shouldn't be at Carteneau. If he was he would have been more jaded and not as green as he carried himself in the questlines.

Owing to the time bubble (5 years) and my personal timeline (6.5 years) between the Calamity and the start of Heavensward, this would put him at 14 (time bubble: 16) when the call for Carteneau came. Sanson, being the stickler for righteousness that he is, would absolutely have volunteered for it if he could. If he was only 14 he would have been far too young for conscription. I believe this war was the turning point that either made him join the Lancer's Guild after the Calamity, or to focus himself on joining the Adders ranks if he was already there (as opposed to the Wood Wailers).

Why is him not being at Carteneau important? Simple: Sanson's story is one of ushering Gridania to a new future; from reviving the bards, uncovering a century old conspiracy (and holding the military to their words for it), to representing a more cooperative Gridania at Ghimlyt and Garlemald (with Guydelot explicitly saying he'd love to learn Garlean songs, even). If Sanson was at Carteneau, he would have been a changed man with much more cynicism in his blood than the one that we saw. Being young, he could very well be cannon fodders who were drafted just to pad Alliance numbers. He could have even, well, died.

No, to me it's important that both Sanson and Guydelot can look to the future with boundless optimism, instead of one that was born from personal brush with bloodshed a long time ago. There is also a line in the game where Sanson confessed he'd never seen a battle as bloody as Ghimlyt. If he was at Carteneau, I don't think anything would beat a literal meteor/dragon dropping from the sky in terms of sheer scale of violence.

But how could an inexperienced 20 year old be a Captain already? Consider this: in the wake of the Calamity, the Adders ranks (and all the other GCs) would have been thinned by a lot. There might have even been a vacuum in the military and so they all took keen interests in filling these decimated roles up as quick as possible. They were looking outward and inward as Vorsaile himself was a decorated mercenary before he was offered the Commander role. Sanson, with his workaholic tendency, was probably seen as a loyal and diligent soldier.

He probably also took to leadership training very quickly, with very good results (I HC that he is actually a stellar leader, just that he was in denial of this). This made him a very good candidate to be promoted to the Captain role. And this is also IMO why he was so invested in the Ballad of Oblivion. He would have seen his promotion as a great opportunity to prove himself worthy of the role, and being so young, this was probably his first official assignment, all the more reason to throw one's all into it.

But of course he learns very quickly that he's got a lot to learn still. I think the fact that the Adders were so ready to discard him in Stormblood probably shook him to the core—this is why I thought that the military was promoting a lot of people in fairly short time: the new generation were still just numbers to the brass, they were untested beyond Ixal skirmishes; not until Ala Mhigo and Ghimlyt. For Sanson this marks another turning point, that he was staying in the Adders not only as a career but to steer the future of Gridania somewhere better. This is why I go hard on the Grand Serpent Marshal timeline: with Sanson's righteousness, dedication and loyalty, if there is ever a need to fill that role in the future, you have the literal perfect person to fill it.

There is a secondary reason why I thought Sanson was only 20 and it has to do with Guydelot. They're both foils of each other: the (slightly) older person with no ambition, and the younger one with ALL the ambitions. They're meant to contrast each other with how stiff Sanson was, and how lackadaisical Guydelot was.

Sanson probably wished to NOT be like Guydelot when he hits that age, and Guydelot probably thought Sanson was on his way to waste his prime being a stuck up prat for the military. If Sanson was older, he might have been more set in his ways, and might have been less inclined to meet Guydelot halfway. And Guydelot might have thought Sanson be a lost cause because look at him; Guydelot was not in the business of changing anyone who were past his own station in life.

This is very apparent to me in the cutscene in SB where Guydelot praised Sanson for standing his ground. To me that is played almost in a 'senpai proud of his kouhai' kinda way lol. Look at Sanson! He's all grown up! Maybe he could be as good as Guydelot at this sticking to his own conviction thing.

Anyway this is getting *extremely* long, but this is how I see Sanson: a very green young man with ambition in his heart and stars in his eyes, and this could only work if he was not at Carteneau before we met him.

Disclaimer that I am NOT trying to disprove anyone else's HC; in fact I have talked at length to some people about this and still firm in my choice of making him 20yo. Remember that this is all personal preferences! I do confess initially I had him at 24-25 before Alpal and dianna convinced me that he's too innocent to have been a Carteneau survivor.

[amoebaforce]

Heya! I wanted to ask for Emet-Selch, Zenos, and G'raha trying to flirt with a **very** oblivious wol. Tia, love ya

ooh this was a fun one!! i love Zenos and G'raha, and i've been patiently waiting for someone to request my favorite war criminal Ancient :)

here are some blurbs for you anon! <3

pairings: Emet-Selch, Zenos yae Galvus, G'raha Tia x gn!WoL tags: fluff, miscommunication, "fighting", kissing, Shadowbringers spoilers

Emet-Selch can’t figure out what he’s doing wrong. He’s already dropped every hint he can think of, given every compliment he can conjure, and still, nothing. Every time he tries to flirt, the WoL laughs it off, as if he were joking. Or worse, as if he were making fun of them. Perhaps it’s his own fault. They didn’t have the best of introductions, and even Emet can admit he’s a little… abrasive, at times. But all of that is in the past. It’s time he reintroduced himself.

Emet waits for the cover of darkness to enact his plan. He’s watched the WoL long enough to know that they’re always the last person awake, mind too full of what-ifs and nevermores to find sleep. That’s something Emet understands well, despite the eons of difference between them, so he takes care to knock quietly when he approaches their door. After a moment, the sleepy-faced WoL turns the knob.

“Oh,” they say. “It’s you.”

“Yes,” Emet murmurs back. “It’s me. Let me in.” The door shuts behind him. “Tell me, are you playing hard to get, or are you just dense?”

The WoL begins to take offense, but Emet cuts them off with a sigh. The confusion in their eyes already answered his question. They really have no idea what he’s talking about, do they? 

“Did you really think it was all for nothing?” he asks them tensely. “All those stolen glances, all those times we happened to find ourselves alone… I thought you’d know by now, hero, that I don’t do anything accidentally.” 

A realization dawns on their face. “You… Why?”

“Oh, for the love of–” 

Emet gives up. He takes the WoL by the shoulders and yanks them closer, ignoring their confused yelp as he crashes his mouth to theirs. They stiffen for a split second, and Emet wonders if he’s miscalculated. But then, the Warrior melts. Their flailing hands find his shoulder and face, and an accepting hum floats up their throat. Emet-Selch grins against their lips. They must be a tactile learner, he thinks.

****

Zenos feels like his messaging is crystal-clear. He’s picked a fight with the WoL every day this week, poking and prodding with his words until one of them loses their cool and lunges. Their spats are short and simple, and they usually end with someone getting pinned and forced to admit defeat. Isn’t that enough of a confession? The singing of blades, the panting of lungs and gnashing of teeth as their bodies and minds battle for dominance… It's romantic, isn’t it? And why else would Zenos willingly lose a sparring match against the Warrior, if not to experience the simple intimacy of surrendering to their hands?

So why don’t they get it? Zenos frowns and crosses his arms. Ancestors, it’s like they’ve never been courted before. He might have to be more direct today. He chooses something especially silly to fight over this time — clothes, or swords, or food. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is the WoL’s response. They throw the first punch, and Zenos smiles. In a flurry of limbs and curses, he manages to press the WoL face-down to the floor. He’s got one hand on the back of their head, and the other has captured both of their wrists behind their back. The Garlean prince drapes himself over their body, pressing his nose to their hair and his mouth to their ear.

“Oh, don’t squirm so,” he coos. “Can’t you see? This is all I want. This roiling clash of selves and souls. You under me, or me under you. The end of the game is inconsequential, so long as we two are the players.”

If the way his beloved opponent shivers is any indication, it seems his message has finally been received.

****

G’raha is a patient man, especially when it comes to the WoL. He’s already waited one hundred years for them on the First — and he might have waited another hundred on the Source, had he the time to spare. But if G’raha learned anything in his sojourn across worlds, it’s that time is a funny, fickle thing. It swells and shrinks, changes and metamorphoses, and there never seems to be enough to go around. 

It’s a lesson he can’t seem to escape. It reverberates through him every time the WoL passes by. Every time they laugh at one of his clumsy jokes, or flash him a confident smile, his heart flutters in his chest. He’s been biding his time, hoping they’ll realize how he feels without having to be told. But weeks pass, and nothing changes between them. The Warrior never reads between the lines of his affections, never notices the way his hands linger or his words trail off. He knows he must take matters into his own hands.

G’raha spends a few days building his confidence. He writes a letter, then burns it. He practices his confession in his bedroom mirror. He makes a reservation for two at the nicest restaurant in Mor Dhona, but he calls to cancel it an hour later. None of it feels good enough for them, he thinks. Then, out of the blue, Y’shtola decides she needs a very specific tome from one of the Sharlayan libraries, and G’raha and the WoL are asked to retrieve it. The pair are suddenly alone between the towering shelves, working their way through stacks and stacks of similarly titled books.This is his chance, he realizes. 

G’raha clears his throat. “You know, erm, I-I’ve been wanting to… To say something to you…”

The Warrior glances up. “What is it, Raha? You know you can tell me anything.” 

Anything. The word sizzles through him, and his preparations are all rendered useless. It’s like a dam has been broken. The words tumble out of him and pool around his feet. He tells them everything — how he’s yearned all this time, how his lungs leak air when they’re around, how seeing their face in his dreams sustained him through his years as Exarch. When he runs out of words, his eyes overflow, next. The Warrior’s eyes are wet, too, as they cradle his face in their hands.

“I had no idea,” they say sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. G’raha can’t help but laugh.

[likemosaic]

@aurouze :

"Does it - ... get easier?" Alta is usually soft spoken, but her words now are small, as if holding the confession close to the vest. Not many of their Scion companions had settled down and found their own family units - ... not yet, anyroad, leaving both Alta and the Warrior of Light among the few who had done so. And if any of them could tell the Xaela it would, eventually, be okay - ... it would be her. Her daughter was older, if just by a few seasons, but it seemed as if the Raen had gotten though it all just as easily as she did everything else. "I get - ... hm. Stifled. Bored. All I do is - care for him, and I want to do more. I miss - ... I miss adventuring," she confessed quietly. "It'll come back... eventually. Eventually. But -"

chiyo listens intently, expression solemn. the feeling alta describes is not unfamiliar to her. the restlessness, the need to be doing something, anything at all. mother had taken over chiyo's villa after hypatia's birth in an attempt to be kind. instead, she had unintentionally denied chiyo any outlet--she'd had to force her way into her own kitchen, wave off worried hands when she climbed her own damn stairs. and all the while feeling like a caged yanxian tiger at the zoo, legs itching to run, to hunt, to play, forced instead to care for hypatia (or patience, as she's called by the other scions). yes, chiyo comprehends alta's predicament quite well, and gives her a sympathetic look.

"i understand." chiyo smiles down at hau, tickles his cheek to make him laugh. "you are the source of your mother's woes, aren't you? well, one source." she straightens, brows pulled down in mild concern. "i hope his father has not been shirking his responsibilities to you? i am well aware how garlean culture treats mothers." about the same way as doma treats mothers: badly. chiyo still holds a long standing grudge against the former legatus, one that has eased slightly over time. eased enough to use her artistry to paint gaius' portrait of himself and his children, living and dead. but not eased enough to entirely let go of the typical suspicion she reserves for all men (garlean or otherwise). surely gaius is not so foolish as to not recognize the potential for an illness that both domans and garleans agree on: post-birth depression.

(chiyo is perhaps a bit too distrustful of men to acknowledge that 'tis a unisex disease).

still, alta's choices are her own. chiyo is well aware she can judge no one else for who they choose to father their children (zenos still puts hypatia's cloth diapers on backwards).

"i felt as you did, initially. i cannot say it ever gets easy, but after a time, i simply began to take her along with me...though i know that can be easier said than done," chiyo adds, letting hau hold one finger while she speaks (distracting him, so alta may feel more like herself again and less like a toy for her son to play with). "a sling fashioned about the chest is useful for such a thing, and i find they often take the opportunity to sleep." many a trip to the thavnairian markets has been made with patience resting against her chest. as a bonus, it gives her a better deal with the vendors when they see she has a child to think of.

"patience was calm enough that i could manage to get most things done with her attached to me. though that doesn't solve all problems. you are always welcome to leave master hau with us, for a time, if your...paramour permits it." somehow, she doubts anyone would want to leave a baby in the same home as zenos, much less someone who once loved the emperor. but chiyo hopes the presence of hypatia counteracts any misgivings. she sighs. "i don't know about you, but i do sometimes wish that i had had the foresight to...prolong this eventuality. had i known i could become with child...i might have enjoyed being untethered for longer. if you understand my meaning."

[starvoidsailor]

Greetings Adventurers and welcome

Being here means you either figured I am the one who keeps asking how Gaius has not broken his legs in Praetorium yet or you saw that one Scar post about Nero.

And now that you're here I'll shove my WoL at you :D Time for introductions!

"I've never dared to think about my own selfish wishes, but maybe it's time for a change."

Hikaru grew up in a merchants house, haven been given up shortly after birth due to what her village called a 'haunted eye' and her unnatural paleness. She was sent to be a servant to the Yuzuka Estate in One River Valley before her 12th summer and earn her keep with her adoptive family. Arriving there she found herself companion and Court-lady to the heir of the clan, young Lady Yuzuka. Trained and educated she became Lady-in-Waiting until King Kaien rebelled and was crushed by the Garlean Empire, leading to the destruction of the Yuzuka Clan. Losing sight of young Lady Yuzuka but refusing to believe her dead, Hikaru searched Doma before chartering a ship to Eorzea after hearing rumors of a woman fitting her Ladys description sailing there. Arriving in Gridania she needed a way to earn her keep and became an adventurer of humble standing before signing up for an expedition with NOAH to the Crystal Tower where she meet her Lady again after all these years and Menphina had her tumble into love headfirst with a mysterious masked man.

"Careful now, we can't have one of NOAHs adventurers tumble off and die exploring now, can we 'Little Miss Assistant'?"

Trusting to a fault and thinking all this a misunderstanding, Hikaru for better or worse insisted on wanting to help rescue the "nice researcher Master Scaeva" from the World of Darkness. Running into the man once more to help with Omega and the Rift, this is where their whole romance actually started to slowly develop. Being stuck in another dimension for several months and very little to do, they got closer over mutual interests and Hikarus determination to figure out her whole feeling salad regarding Nero, since he did once serve in the Legion but was overall very polite to Hikaru in her opinion. Neros collapse after Kefkas defeat lead to her confessing. It took him a bit longer to accept and reciprocate her feelings out of sheer stubbornness but he was persuaded eventually.

I do intent on posting more ship content and slowly go and explore Hikarus whole development from ARR onwards, but my true talent lies in writing. So I will probably start and post my fic links here once I get to upload them since my GPose skills are still in the early stages and I get flustered trying to pose anything with any of the actual NPCs in FFXIV.

Thanks for checking out my Blog, asks are always welcome and thanks for reading. Have a nice day!

[halikyon]

As someone who enjoys ships with minor npcs, I want to know everything about Ryune and M'naago. How did they meet? Who caught feelings for whom first? How did they confess? What trials have they been through as a couple and how have they persevered through them? Give me everything.

*Gets up on stage with a stack of documents, clears throat, adjusts mic* I'll try to summarize where I can. A lot is still being developed and written, so there may be a few slight jumps, but the general idea and timeline are certainly here.

Long before ARR, young Ryune lived near the Peering Stones with her mother and four siblings. Her father was an adventurer himself, and while not absent, was often away. When Garlemald attacked, they were forced to take refuge at the Peering Stones proper. This was the first time they ever met, though Ryune looked very different, her hair brown and short, and her name at this stage of life being M'runa.

They got along, as kids tend to do, though as time passed, Ryune withdrew more and more as her family dropped one by one until her gather took her to escape beyond Baelsar's Wall into Eorzrea proper.

Many years later, they would finally meet yet again during Stormblood, though they didn't recognize each other at first. Ryune was the first to realize, giving M'naago a big hug before realizing she should really explain. She told her about how they had escaped, how she had needed to take refuge with the U (where her name became U'ryune before dropping the U when she set out as an adventurer), and how good it was to see her after so long.

Unfortunately, M'naago wasn't quite as excited, sharing the opinion of many of her tribe about adventurers being nothing but swords for hire who shouldn't be trusted, no matter what they might have accomplished. This opinion would soon melt away, however, during the campaign to liberate their homeland, as Ryune would often be the one leading the charge, full of conviction and passion.

The respect turned to friendship, Ryune seeing her as both determined and compassionate during the campaign. Once Doma was free and the efforts fell fully to the liberation Ala Mhigo, they fought side by side quite often and formed a bond of deep trust. It was here that Ryune felt something more and began to be a bit flirty towards her, though M'naago wasn't exactly sure how to take it, as, at this time, Ryune and Thancred were rumored to be together, and while it was true they had a physical relationship, it was never a romantic one, rather one of mutual trust and physical attraction. This came to a head not long before the final battle to liberate the city proper.

M'naago had picked up on Ryune's advances and, while feeling something herself, found herself very annoyed and a more than a bit angry that Ryune was, in her mind, attempting to cheat on Thancred. A rather long, empassioned talk about what was going on and an admission of Ryune's feelings later, they had the beginnings of Ryune's first romantic involvement with another. They didn't have all that long to develop that relationship, though, as the Garlean's counterattack would force them into action once again. This was also when the Scions were being taken, and M'naago could put two and two together, understanding Ryune might soon be gone herself. On the eve of battle, a second admission of feelings, this time primarily from M'naago, took place, expressing her fear and love and hope for what could be. The night ended with their first kiss. It would be the last night they would see each other for a very long time.

The final battle with Zenos broke Ryune's body, both physically and as a vessel for aether. Ryune, believing them to be her last thoughts, held M'naago in her mind, hoping she would understand and that she would be able to move on. She regretted not being able to see her again and that End of Days had kept the apart as much as being stuck in the First had. She remembers waking for a moment on the ship, Alisae crying over her while her companions poured aether into her before it all went black again.

The next time she gained consciousness was in Old Sharlayan, in a white room with all sorts of devices hooked to her. She could barely move or see, her mouth so dry that speaking was nearly impossible. She saw a red blur leave the room in a rush and the familiar voice of Alisae calling that she was awake. An explanation of events, her recovery by the resident doctor who also was kind enough to give her a bit of water so she could speak again, and efforts by Yshtola and Krile to rebuild what was likened to a highly eroded dam within that was supposed to hold the aether in her that Ryune had essentially broken by drawing so much aether through herself.

Yshtola and Krile noticed M'naago at the door and invited her in, taking their leave and making Alisae come along to give them some time alone. It was a tearful reunion, M'naago having taken turns with Alisae by her side for the weeks she had been in bed. Here, there was a plain admission of mutual love and a long overdue kiss, and a promise that Ryune would never do something so reckless by herself again. They spent a good deal of time here in a small apartment near the medical facilities during the recovery once she was out of that bed.

The road to recovery was difficult, and it ended up placing a strain on their relationship for a time. Ryune has an anger problem, one that forced her to run from Little Ala Mhigo in the first place that had flared up every now and then during the course of her adventures. The recent outbursts were worse, though, but M'naago was able to understand, having seen dozens of friends injured and dealing with PTSD. She was able to take that anger and deflect it away, getting through to Ryune and quelling the rage whenever it would flare up. This is also when they first began spending their nights together, M'naago having to quickly learn how to calm nightmare-induced panic attacks and deflect random flailing in the dark. She also had to deal with depressive episodes where Ryune could barely be convinced to get out of bed, but M'naago stuck with her and made sure she got through it all.

Once Ryune finally recovered enough, they wanted to find a home together, deciding on Ala Ghana due to its aetherite connection and proximity to the rebuilding Fists of Rhalgr that Ryune wished to dedicate her time to now that the End of Days had been averted. Somehow, word got out about this new living arrangement, and the Ironworks engineers, along with a few Garleans who wished to repay her, set upon the place, modernizing it and expanding it. At Ryune's insistence, they did add amenities to the other homes carved into the cliff as well, but hers still ended up having the most bells and whistles. She had also used the tools they brought to make a large tub big enough to float in. It was as if someone had encased a Garlean home in carved rock, complete with electrical power and clean water that could be heated as they wished.

This era is one of relative stability, with M'naago running her reconciliation and rebuilding efforts in Rhalgr's Reach while Ryune set about rebuilding the Fists in the Temple above (this is where the bulk of stories my brain has are in the timeline). Their bond here is an established one of trust, understanding, and a desire to see each other succeed, their efforts often overlapping since their end goal is to rebuild the area and bring refugees back home. They want to see the area thrive once more, and know just how much work it will take, but believe fully that it's a worthwhile goal. Ryune's time helping in the Thirteenth weren't so far flung as to keep her away from M'naago any longer than a day or two at a time, but with Wuk Lamat asking for assistance, it's led to a crisis within Ryune. As she knew all too well to do, she spoke plainly with her partner, explaining how she felt guilty about leaving M'naago behind and the Monks as well, but M'naago set her straight, explaining that her love of adventuring and desire to help others was core to who she was, and one of the many reasons she loved her so much. M'naago told her to go, and that it wasn't like before, with a request like this likely leaving her with more time to stay here since they weren't racing the end of the world anymore. This reaffirmed Ryune's own love for M'naago, so understanding and caring with such an incredible knack for striking the core of the problems she faced: No one would be angry she would be gone, and she would still have her loving partner and home whenever she returned.

That's how things stand for now, with Ryune awaiting word while they both continue to live happy domestic lives with the occasional local adventure while time allows.

Ryune's love for M'naago stems from her compassion and ability forgive others, like with her reconciliation efforts with the Skulls, her bravery, leadership ability, and her really bad puns/jokes (that I made up as a trait) that Ryune can't help but enjoy. When one is said, the urge to smooch her face goes through the roof. Ryune saw her as a strong comrade-in-arms, dependable ally, and now, as someone she couldn't imagine her life without.

M'naago's love for Ryune comes from how she is so passionate about the things she cares about, whether it's the Monks or Gyr Abania or M'naago herself, her desire to help everyone she comes across, and her adventurous spirit which has often lead to her trying all kinds of new things and seeing new places. She is also quite happy that Ryune is so open with her, speaking her mind openly and plainly about what troubles her ever since Ryune began her recovery.

They know the other means what they say and, after the few early misteps, know the best way is to always speak your heart. This is also why M'naago is unbothered by Ryune's past and present proclivity for more physical affection/interactions with people she trusts. For example, if Ryune gave G'raha a big kiss after not seeing him for a while, she wouldn't see it as something that worries her at all, though she would be quite entertained to see what his reaction would be!

[brineffxiv]

Holy hell, that tower.

And it's just there. You can see it. From the opposite side of the bloody map.

Okay, okay. Write a proper post now...

In Limsa we meet with several of the Alliance's leaders. The plan has been made: we are taking the war to Garlemald. A contingent of elite soldiers will use our newly acquired warding scales to invade the Empire's capital and bring aid to the tempered Garlean populace.

While I trust your intentions, Nanamo, I do not in general trust a foreign government invading a nation with which they have been at war, claiming to be bringing "aid." But then, this is a video game and not real life. Perhaps it is what it says.

Our other target is the colossal tower (that tower holy FUCK) that used to be the Imperial Palace. Because that thing... That thing's bad news.

In Ala Mhigo we confer with Raubahn and Aymeric, who confess that our aid mission is not popular with either of their respective populaces. We also speak with Gaius, who wishes dearly to join us but who regrettably cannot due to both being accused of Varis' murder and his position as a former legatus making him a candidate for a new leader. Maxima will instead be accompanying us.

It turns out that Lucia will be the leader of the Ilsabard Contingent! And what a crowd she will be leading; representatives from all five of the Eorzean Allaince nations (many familiar faces from my class quests among them! How delightful!) as well as several of the Eastern Alliance!

Oh it is so wonderful to see so many old friends in the spotlight again. Brings a happy tear to my eye.

Sadu and Cirina are gal pals. I don't make the rules. They make my little shipper heart happy.

Suddenly, a wild Tataru appears! To provide all us Scions with hand-made winter coats to keep us warm in frigid Garlemald.

...Liar. That's the battle light. Trying to trick me, are you? Lull me into a false sense of security? Well joke's on you. The "several cutscenes" warning puts me on guard like nothing else.

Ah, Emet, what do you have to tell me about Garlemald? You would know it best, I'd imagine. At least, as it was before the Telophoroi got to it.

Really fucking cold? Yeah, I got that. Time to freeze my tail off, I suppose.

Our first obstacle on the road to the capital? Tempered Imperials. Comprised of members of both the Ist and IIIrd legions who had been the main instigators of the civil war, the IIIrd supporting Nerva and the Ist... not. (Who exactly was the Ist supporting??) Are we ever going to meet Nerva? I assume he's not dead yet, but is he tempered is the real question...

Anyway.

Thancred's group will disable and explode the magitek in the nearby depot to create a diversion while we guide the supply convoy through.

Unfortunately this means I must play as Thancred again. Oh boy, and it's a stealth mission this time.

I am less than good at stealth.

Alisaie and I are guarding the rear of the supply carriages, when the blizzard clears and we suddenly find ourselves surrounded by Imperials. It's all we can do to disable them without killing them.

I really enjoyed this fight sequence. Very nice and tense, but not as stressfully difficult as Thancred's section was. Perfectly balanced for a story scene.

Once the fight is well in hand for our side I make for the front to join the vanguard where my friends are contending with the main force of Imperials and their commander: Vergilia.

Nice design. I wonder if she'll be in any way important after we cure her of her tempering?

Oof. That's the first good look I get of that tower. That thing is creeeepy. Gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Fuck. Look at the city.

Wait, that's a road. Like, a modern road. Do the Garleans have cars!? Like. Civilian cars?!

...I find it fascinating that even after living an entire life in Solus' body, Emet-Selch never came to think of himself as Solus. Even now, in reflection, he sees it as playing a role. It makes me wonder... It makes me wonder a great many things... And this is really not the place for them, but you see, I have a one-track mind. And we're in Garlemald. The empire he built and ruled.

...

Here at last.

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2024: The Nautilus Bloweth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[clockwork-sparrow]

Tales from the Frost

Stories following the conclusion of the RP Arc, TOWER.

Stories: 1 2 [3] 4

Dear Zelimir

Dear Zelimir,

We’re coming. Sorry it took almost three decades. Life’s stranger than fiction nowadays and there’s a lot for us to catch up on. Like how I ended up traveling with your murderer to find your resting place, for starters.

Civil war burned Garlemald to cinders, but we survived. Something incomprehensible possessed the world and turned the sky red, but we survived that, too. You always said I was tenacious, but I don’t think you meant it’d be enough to weather two apocalypses.

Somewhere in the middle, we (the Tappers. Sofi misses you too, you know) stumbled on a weird town of magitek, complete with a freaky Overseer, robot farmers, and who knows what else. Was just us at first. Bunch of Garleans joined later. Some of them were the sorriest looking bastards I’d ever seen but some of them were just bastards, so much so that they tried to reestablish Garlemald, shackles and all.

Zelimir, I think you’d be proud to hear that we’re living side by side with many of these bastards now. You shouldn’t be, though. If the Final Days didn’t happen, we’d still be at each other's throats, but we (all of us) lived through some very horrific things. Didn’t know if the next day would be our last, didn’t have the spoons to care about fucking beans when literal depression monsters were hunting us down. Stranger than fiction, again.

I knew Marcellus killed you. I thought about it every day. I thought about it when I led our ragtag band of soldiers to defend our freaky magitek home against even freakier blasphemies, and I threw him into less than favorable fights because of it. You know me. I would’ve killed all the bastards if I had the chance, but...things happened. Hands were tied at the time. I’m bitter about you though, so I had hoped, and figured if he died in combat, well. That’s just war. But being in the trenches changes a man so, yes. He killed you, but he saved me too. Saved Sofi. We saved each other so that we could live another day like cockroaches. That was our new normal, insanity and violence and all.

The Final Days eventually ended, after more wars, more kidnappings, and more shit that flew straight over my head. Giant...spaceship at one point. Man. I don’t even know. Sometimes I want to believe it was all collective madness, but then, I’ll wake up and the signs will still be there. I half expect the skies to turn red again honestly. Peace feels like it could be taken away at any second.

Anyway, Marcellus confessed. Almost three decades later, when there’s practically nothing left of you except for memories, he confessed. Said you didn’t crack and reveal any of the other members of the underground. I hated hearing about it but it’s closure, still. And your body is long rotten and lost, your records wiped and destroyed, but we’re coming anyway, to the place you passed away. So I can say goodbye and Marcellus can...apologize.

You shouldn’t forgive him. He’s an ass. Terrible pokerface, awful taste in beer, his mustache sucks. Thinnest hair I’ve seen on a lip. I haven’t forgiven him and neither should you, but he’s trying, and he needs to live with this. No amount of justice will bring you back, so I guess I’m settling for second best.

These days, I’m restless wondering if this is enough. If this peace is enough, if evil got punished enough, if they’re repentant enough, if I’ll ever be satisfied. There are holes in me where you fit. Where all the good Tappers who died under the Empire fit. Is it fair that your murderer lives? Is it fair that he has a second chance? I don’t think so, but now, he’s a part of me too. There’s a hole where Marcellus would leave, too, and the trenches change a man. They leave you riddled with bullet holes.

I know you had hopes for me and I’ve always tried to live up to them but, Zelimir, maybe the reason I lived and you didn’t is because I’m not good. I want people to suffer as I have. I would’ve executed someone I now care about and been none the wiser. My pain, our pain. It’ll be forgotten one day...maybe recorded in words, but the distance will grow. One day, there won’t be anyone left that knows you personally. Is this a good thing? Is this just the way life is? That we live, just to be forgotten?

I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me.

Sincerely,

Vanya Kvetasch

[chadhunkler]

Character Themes - Chad and Kasha

tagged by @archaiclumina aaaaaa thank you!

I have a few playlists for Chad and Kasha already, I'll try to grab a couple from each for them

Chad's got some varied emotions in her Workout and Relaxation playlists

Action - Dirty Little Animals by BONES UK

One of the songs I listened to while doing fight RP with Chad! I enjoyed the show, and only after watching it figured out that Chad's kinda similar to Vi lmao. GOOD SHOW GO WATCH ARCANE IF YOU HAVEN'T

More action - RISE by YMIR

Very metal, loud, Chad's favorite type of fighting. A more recent addition to the workout playlist, but YMIR's on there a bunch

Dejected - It's Beginning To Rain Again by Little North

Something to evoke the feelings she'd felt after losing a bunch, being accused of overworking, forced to rest. When nothing went right... Little North very good quiet jazz yyeyeyey

Chilling - Curicó by Kiltro

Love Kiltro, got to go to a concert of theirs recently! Very chill, acoustic, Chilean-inspired music. Definitely something Chad would listen to on a day off.

Lyyhia ♥♥♥ - The Water's Fine by The Family Crest

One of the songs played when they went out on a fishing trip in Yanxia, up in the Plum Springs, where Chad first confessed her love...

Kasha only has one playlist for now, maybe I'll split it later. Hers is very good too. It was very hard to pick songs... all of hers are so good...

Forest - Gilded Runner by HOYO-MiX

A blast to her past, before becoming an Onmyo Mage. Imagery of rushing through the jungle of her homeland, hunting for dinner, dodging the Garlean occupying forces.

Spooky - Through a Cloud, Darkly by Chris Christodoulou

Chris is something else he don't miss... Otherworldly, alien song with resonant bells, exactly the kind of vibe Kasha's trying to give off.

Spooky x2 - YESTERDAY'S PAIN by Lorn

Same as before, spooky, unnatural sounds... Noises to put fear in yokai.

Regal, Powerful - Yone, the Unforgotten by League of Legends

ok this one's on the nose but I had to, it fits Kasha too well. Actiony, Japanese-inspired music is perfect for her!

Eccentric - CLOSET by Yoh Kamiyama

I like the funk this song gives, and the lyrics kinda fit too

Thank you again for tagging me!

If they wanna, I'll tag @rasenkaikyo @shroudkeeper @the-littlest-kojin and @amurr-reha and anyone else who sees this, if you wanna do it, go ahead! (God im bad at tagging people aughe)