#halone hawk

[whitherwanderer]

Send 🙏🏻 to see them practicing their faith (or lack thereof).

Once, I thought I could never hope to grasp Your grace, so far are we from divine.

I sought Your recognition, Your pity, Your benevolence.

A warrior goddess; none of these are Your domain. This I learned through strife.

And so I entrust my folly to the past, and my past to You. I have no need of it.

[gatheredfates]

Alaice - Distraught

CONTENT WARNINGS: Alaice's story deals in dark/mature themes surrounding toxic relationships, domestic violence and my personal interpretation of a woman's place in Ishgardian high society. Please do not read/scroll now if you're under eighteen or if these topics are personally triggering. The abuse is primarily emotional/mental, but there is also a mention of martial rape. I choose to be transparent because I believe in tagging/warning were appropriate, but I'm firmly of the opinion people must be responsible for the kinds of media they choose to engage with. Curate your spaces appropriately.

when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it.

Tight fingers wove around a bunch of forget-me-nots, flecks of azure in the grey. Ahead, a weary band of onlookers watched the procession while the stony eyes of The Fury bored, an irony both in material and stare. It wasn’t the kind of wedding Alaice had envisioned for herself; a tiny gathering, a closed ceremony, the absence of her father on her arm.

'It would not do to wait for a spring wedding,' he explained on the first ask, and who was she to deny? The duties of her House weighed heavy since her parent's death (little more than babe, to loose them so quickly - what a tragedy!) and the tender promise of protection nursed to love as she confided to the handsome man now called her fiancé. He knew better, of course, master of his house for a ten-year, how to conduct her affairs in a most delicate manner. It would not bode well for her to attempt to navigate the bureaucracies on her own; the paperwork, the proprieties — she was ill prepared for it! No, he would care for it out of his adoration for her. She need only pledge her love for him and he would make it so.

Sensible. Pragmatic. It was no gayly court and gaggles of gossip, but she would be safe. Her mother had prepared her thusly before she died; the second-nature braid was originally by her hand. The spattering of snowberries and frosted evergreen haloed around her head only furthered the picturesque portrait of bridely innocence on her ascension to the altar.

Past the threshold of virtue. Out of the furnace and into the fire.

He looked at her and she swore to herself none of it mattered. Not the awkward assembly of acquaintances, the Halonic choir singing a chorus closer to a requiem, or the rush-job priest that better suited such a lament. The man on her left loosened his hold and relinquished her to her soon-to-be husband, as if he had any ownership over her in the first place.

Draeir smiled. His mouth were a gate of shiny white teeth, an ivory fortress where she loomed in enamel prisons lashed by his cold word. She smiled back so sweetly, barely containing her excitement, ignorant to the grip that was two ilms too tight on her fingers or the way he pulled her to him with contained force.

She stumbled. He caught her in turn. A moment's panic escaped her mouth, regained in an instant, and she apologised for her mistake.

"You won't do it again," he answered her, and she took it for gentility.

You will know better than to do it again.

The choir lolled into silence.

a beast can never unlearn its nature.

A posy of periwinkles decayed by the windowsill, overlooking the drab gardens flanked by an ever-constant pattering of snow. They had been a gift on his return, a placation for the girl resting chin-first by the ledge, and placed on the mantle to gather dust. That was how she felt most days, now — a painting, perhaps a statue at best. Something to revisit when he pleased, brushed down and realigned.

Sometimes, when he were being generous, he would trot her out to the crowds he entertained — watched with those hawk-like eyes how she curtsied and smiled at their jokes.

"Such a pretty thing, Draeir, how lucky you must be!" The women remarked, dripping poison from the corner of their lips to be bestowed upon their husbands who stared too long. She felt the uncomfortable flip in the pit of her stomach, intensified when they turned away to talk business and pleasure and his hand would seize hers from behind, pulling her to his side.

"Darling," he cooed, his voice dropping so low as to make the others believe they were merely conversing. Then came the hissed "Feeding their egotism is not your job."

Which did he want — her absence or her presence? If she kept to herself he'd stumble into their room wine-drunk and longing, clawing for her company and absconding her for her avoidance. If she stayed by him and submitted to his whims, a toe out of line spurred his ire.

"You are my WIFE." The specks of spittle were like stains on her skin, no matter how much she tried to wipe them off, and the desperate cries for his redemption could not strip the varnish from the bed that creaked from the weight of them. It hadn't occurred to her then to wish for them to crack; to fling them, body and bloody, to the floor.

It hadn't occurred to her to fight back.

How was this love when she was hysterical? How was this love when he looked at her with rage?

Draier grabbed her face and demanded her silence. He kissed her. He bit her. He tore her from the inside out, wringing her out like a crone's cloth, and left her in tatters at the bedside.

When she finally rose, barely registering what time had passed, she bundled the sheets dappled by blood and retrieved her clothes from the floor. She barely registered handing them to her maid, only that she asked they all be burned.

Rotting flowers on a mantle, elegantly framed. Holy work, the church claimed.

Tell me then, father, why I feel so unclean?

Is it nature or is it nurture?

In her dreams, her daughter wrapped her fingers around her throat.

"A sapling cannot be saved from the seed," She said, pretty lips spreading to a bloodied smile that poured down her chin to the spear of ice lodged between her breastbone. When Alaice screamed and tried to tear her hands away, Alyna only pressed her weight harder upon the weapon until she could no longer swallow the blood.

Her complexion. Her father's hair. Eyes of clear ice and steel grey looking at her vapidly. He looked like that when he died, too; the hard lines in his face smoothing to a eerie stillness as he slumped forward on the rime, steam rising from his rapidly cooling body.

She should have been horrified. Yet, when she dropped to her knees in front of him, all she could feel was relief.

Nature made him cruel. Nurture made her desperate. What would be the fate for their babe?

She woke the way a person stepped onto thin ice — cold and all at once. It was as if she suddenly remembered how to breathe, gulping down air instead of frozen water as her chest heaved and the blanket tangled around her legs was crisp and patched with snow.

To her left her daughter cried, but it was only on her third inhale that her mother registered it with fright and turned to scoop her up.

Alaice pressed her to her breast, icy cold. Alyna didn't seem to mind. In the stillness of the night, she was still a babe — not an apparition to be feared or an inevitability to supress.

"I can't tell you if evil is born or made," she recalled the witch telling her. They were alone one night, Elandervier having been coaxed by the promise of wine and relatively silent company. But, as she swirled the red in her hooked fingers, she sighed and looked to Alaice in full. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she busied herself with her cup.

She wondered what she might have said if she pressed. In truth, maybe it was better she didn't know at all.

Instead, she grounded herself with the feeling of her weight connecting with the wooden floorboards and the way her daughter wriggled in her arms. Alaice soothed her with a coo and a kiss to the crown of her head, straying to the window were dried lavender was plucked from the vase and offered as peacekeeping.

She had no way of knowing the horrors of the world. In this moment, she was safe.

That had to be good enough.

[allmywardensaresafeandsound]

Just realized I had art of each of my datv worldstate protags so i got templating !!

Mephis Tabris, art by @keeperscompanionsdai (deactivated) Claire Hawke, art by @home-halone Moghrana Lavellan, art by @squidmayo and template by @/marianchurchland here

[houserosaire]

14 Associations: Silvaineaux

🐱 Animal: Hawks, chocobos, lions.

💜 Colors: Blue, black, and gold

🎶 Song: I See Fire from The Desolation of Smaug

8️⃣ Number: 1. Because he would prefer to be number one.

🌑 Day or Night: Day. The better to see trouble coming.

🌺 Plants: Forget-me-nots

🪔 Scents: Metal, Leather, Sandalwood.

💎 Gemstones: Sapphire, Yellow Topaz, Obsidian.

🍂 Season: Summer. It is his favorite season.

🌄Places: Ishgard, Coerthas, The Shroud

🥘 Foods: Venison, Oranges, Cheese.

✨ Eorzean Deity: Halone, the Fury

💧 Eorzean Elements: Fire and Earth

🍹 Drink: Whiskey, Ishgardian tea, Hot Chocolate.

Tagged by: @mimble-sparklepudding​ Thank you so much! This was fun.

Tagging: @bookbornexiv​ @thedarknesssings​ @blisteringstar​ @roses-and-grimoires​ @reddevil-xiv​ @hiraethwyl​ @latikaa-renaz​ @liminal-storage​ @tea-and-conspiracy​ @seascrapes​ @placesyoucallhome​ @miqomischief​ And whoever else might like to.

[aidan-hawke]

Body language: Aidan Hawke

Bold for Common ❤️ Italics for Rare

DEFENSIVENESS

arms crossed on chest  /   crossing  legs / fist-like gestures / pointing  index  finger   /   karate  chops   / stiffening of shoulders /   tense posture / curling  of  lip  /   baring  of  teeth /  tail lashing  /  pinned ears / intense looks / guarded speech

REFLECTIVE

hand to face gestures /   head tilted / stroking chin nose  /  peering over glasses  /   taking glasses off to clean them   /   putting  earpiece  of  glasses in  mouth   /   pipe smoker  gestures  /   putting hand to the bridge of the nose / pursed  lips  /  knitted  brows / lip chewing / Hand on chin / tightened eyes

SUSPICION

arms crossed  /   sideways  glance  /   touching  or  rubbing  nose  /  rubbing  eyes   /   hands  resting  on  weapon  /  brows  rising or knitting together   / lips pressing into a thin line / strict unwavering eye contact /  wrinkling  of  nose /  eyes narrowing / ears alert or upright

OPENNESS / COOPERATION

Open hands  /   upper  body  in  sprinters  position  /  sitting on edge of a chair /   hand to face gestures  /   unbuttoned  coat  /  tilted head  /  slouched shoulders /  relaxed  posture  /  feet  pointed  outward  /  palms  flat  and  facing  outward / smiling or warm expressions / playful banter

CONFIDENCE

hands  behind  back / hand son lapels of coat  /  steeped  hands  / smirking / baring teeth in a grin /  rolling  shoulders / tipping head  back  but  maintaining  eye  contact /  chest puffed up  /  shoulders  back  /  arms  folded  just  above  navel / relaxed and easy posture

INSECURITY / ANXIETY

chewing  pen  or  pencil  /  rubbing  thumb  over  opposite  thumb /  biting fingernails  / hands  in  pockets /  elbow  bent  /  closed  gestures  /  clearing throat  / “ whew ”  sound  /  picking  or  pinching flesh  / fidgeting in chair /  hand  covering  mouth  whilst speaking   /   poor eye contact  /  tugging pants of clothes / jingling  money  in  pockets /  tugging  at  ear  / perspiring hands / playing  with  hair  /  swaying  / playing  with pointer or marker hands  /  smacking  lips  /  sighing  / rocking  on balls  of feet /   flexing fingers sporadically  / chewing on lip  / pacing / stammering

FRUSTRATION

short breaths  / “ tsk ”  sounds / tightly clenched hands /  fist-like gestures  / pointing  index  finger / running fingers through hair /   rubbing  back  of  neck /  snarling  / revealing teeth  / grimacing   /   sharp eyed glowers with brows drawn together / shoulders back,  head  up  / clenching of jaw  / grinding  of  teeth /  nostrils  flaring / heavy  exhales  / tail lashing  /  pinned ears Tagged by: @naejlas-axe Tagging: @ahollowgrave​ @dragons-ire​ @forever-halone​ and anyone else who wants to!

[argentrenard]

Precipice

How could Ul'dah be so dark at night, yet so vibrant with color just behind? Standing outside near a lamppost in the Goblet was like standing at the edge of the world.

He looked down over the stone railing. Utter darkness. Even his eyes, accustomed to seeing well in very little light, were lost in those untold depths. A lot like looking into…

He banished those thoughts. He had to banish too many thoughts lately. It was sloppy. He had finally earned his freedom from Balthazar's Favor. The blood contract was burned. Why had his first few months of freedom ended with him feeling utterly trapped?

First the murder bird. Always the murder bird. Hovering. So infuriatingly indifferent. Precious, but cold and distant. Out of reach no matter how close, able to hover there. Teasing.

Then the hawk. Brilliant, powerful, regal. Halone incarnate. His doom and salvation. The problem with hawks was they soared. Too high and too far sometimes. His paws were on the ground. Did he need to soar?

He took a step up onto the ledge. He held the lamppost. Leaned. Felt the wind in his hair. Was this his problem? Did he need to try to fly with them all?

He did fly now. Or, well, flew but always crashed. He was learning. Enough to fool a fellow fox, right? Maybe not, but at least be tolerated. Enough to convince a Captain? Enough to train a prospective skilled student? Enough to trick even himself? Did he actually like his crew? It was just another scam, wasn't it? He could quit any time.

The Gallery had grounded him. Whether a snake, a gecko or some kind of frightening goddess, he felt emotionally raw from his experiences there.

Why did it have to awake the past? Why now after… is that why I can't focus? Is that why all this…

More thought-stamping-down was needed. He need to crush those thoughts, actually. He did so again. He lied to himself as well, since immediately the thought came, unbidden and unwanted.

Had that song really made me weep…?

He turned back to look at the manor. Almost a castle. The Outlaw had left. The Samurai had not. Was he staying the night? What was going on!?

Why did it matter? Excellent question. Normally this would be a good thing. Another fun puzzle or inconvenient complication to unravel. He could work with it. Show the world how clever he was. Be worthy of Oschon and ascend perhaps to levels no one ever dreamed.

He leaned over the edge, holding on to his only light. He looked down. It wasn't like glimpsing true beauty and losing it the next instant in the darkness, in the rain. No. It was close perhaps?

Ascend. To fly was another way to ascend.

A Murder Bird, a Hawk, and now… what? The dress. A Magpie. Magpies steal. What did this one steal, friend?

Please be quiet, voice. Please. It's just a job. This is what I do. It's what I live for. Helping poor citizens… like myself! It's just a job. Besides, I am the one who steals. I am the one who takes.

More than one voice in his head was a bit much. 

He could fly. That might be the problem, right? All these feathers, maybe he needed to flock together.

Is that it? Was that the answer? He began to glance over his shoulder to see if the Samurai had left and stopped himself. Instead, he closed his eyes and teetered on the edge. One finger let go, then a second. 

He'd let his mother down. Killed her. He'd tried to never let that happen again. Inaction was impossible. It was time to act, to let go, to…

His hand slipped and he flailed on the ledge… pinwheeling his arms, only to throw himself back and grab the lamppost like it was a lover he had almost known in the rain.

"Swiving hells I don't want to die, I want to LIVE!" he suddenly exclaimed into the pitch black. He laughed, possibly a tad manically, and perchance a bit desperately. However, he did laugh. When all is said and done, that had to amount for something, didn't it?

He grunted and hopped of the ledge. He was such a fool sometimes. Straitening his vest and running a hand through his hair, Argent looked back at the manor house. He would not let this get the best of him. That was a hen house. Who cared if magpies roosted? Certainly not this fox.

He spun about and walked purposefully into the night, away from the dark abyss of the cliff and into the twinkling lights of the Goblet he wanted to gulp from now. This evening would be about forgetting so that he could focus. He wouldn't come back from that glowing life until he could barely walk. Maybe he'd be carried.

He didn't just want to live. He wanted to dance. Feathers be damned.

[allycryz]

Post-6.1-Raid Omphalos

If you return there after all the quests for Patch 6.1 Raid are done, you find Snoegeim there and she says

Here is what I found

By the levin structure (purple jewel) you find Byregot and Rhalgr in the Spriggan and Hawk forms they used in Rhalgr's Reach

By the water structure (darker blue) jewel you find an Owlet and an Assassin Fry

By the Earth structure (orange jewel) is a Golem

By the ice structure (lighter blue jewel) is a Dwarf Rabbit

There are also two instances of the Butterfly Effect minion by the ice structure but I don't know if this is the literal BE minion or just a butterfly effect. Should be stated that I can't seem to find butterflies anywhere else in Omphalos

Neither the wind structure (green jewel) or fire structure (red jewel) have critters nearby

I feel like the Bunny would be Menphina but the butterflies are tripping me up

Owlet and Assassin Fry are almost certainly Thaliak and Nymeia. Golem I think is Althyk.

Going on record with the Baby Opo Opo or Deryk is Oschon.

Which means we are missing Azeyma, Nald'thal, Nophica, Nymeia, Llymlaen and possibly Halone.

[bookbornexiv]

the hawk in the trees

The shrine was livelier than usual, as it was wont to be in these few precious weeks or so left to harvest season. Last-minute but heartfelt prayers and offerings to the Matron (how bountiful her blessings) for strong arms and sharp sickles, for clear skies, for definitely no early frost or sudden swarms of pests, thronged the usually sleepy little building and trampled the grass around it flat.

In all this hubbub Mei stood still, ears pointing up, tail flat and tucked straight down the back of her skirt, her eyes dark and saucer-wide. Sui found her as he was hurrying out of the shrine, and paused, stooping to wave a hand over her face. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Mei jumped, as if she'd been trying to very gently tug on a string until she found the person whose sleeve it unraveled from, only to find it had snapped. She looked past Sui, around the clearing, scrutinizing each face: farmers, seasonal workers, some merchants, all come to pay their respects to the goddess of the harvest. "Is your big man here?"

"What?" Sui spluttered, although he clearly had a wonderful moment imagining the look on the goddess Halone's face if Silvaineaux had indeed joined the crowd paying homage to the Matron. "No, he's -- He has a name, you know."

"You said not to use his name so he wouldn't get into trouble. Are you sure? He wouldn't, like, hide in the trees to watch you? In a non-creepy way, of course."

"No..." Sui paused. "I mean, I suppose he is capable of doing anything if he thinks it's the right thing to do. Maybe he would but in an absolutely non-creepy way. Why are you asking? Did you catch a glimpse of him?"

"I don't smell him," Mei said. "But something's watching you. I don’t know why I just assumed it was your big man. But I don't smell him."

Now Sui, too, turned to cast a doubtful eye upon the faithful gathered to give their annual praise to the Matron. “How do you know something’s - someone’s watching? Why me? Is it Nophica? Maybe it’s Nophica.”

“No,” Mei said. “I mean, fine, yes, She watches over you always. But this is someone else. Someone with skin.”

“You mean like a regular person,” Sui said. “Yes, well, maybe they’re shy. Come, let’s not scare them away. You must look like a hawk to their rabbit... You don’t want them to feel unwelcome, do you?”

Mei rolled her eyes, but after one last baleful glare at the tree-shadows and up into the tangle of leaves and branches overhead, she turned to follow Sui. Deep, deep within the trees, perhaps the tiniest little thread of sunlight filtering through a crack in the dense foliage illuminated a sliver of tawny skin, a lock of dark hair, reflected a pinpoint glimmer of light in a piercing eye as it followed the white-robed priest fluttering happily around his shrine.

[forest-children-ffxiv]

The Forest Children Present: The Square Fighting Tournament

The Forest Children is a traditional Keeper of the Moon community located on Mateus but is open to anyone on the Crystal datacentre. More information about the community including how to join the discord can be found here. Our events are open to anyone over the age of 18 ic and ooc who wish to learn more about Keeper of the Moon culture or simply wish to enjoy the festivities, no matter their race.

This moon, The Forest Children will be celebrating Halone, mover of glaciers and goddess of war. In the name of this fierce goddess of war, The Paloa clan has agreed to host a melee fighting tournament, The Square, a fighting pit traditionally used to settle disputes within the Paloa Clan. Eight slots are currently open for miqo’te from all walks of life to join us in the Coerthas Central Highlands to show their battle finesse in the name of Halone for a grand prize of 1 million gil and a hunting hawk. Runner up prize is 500 000 gil. 

What: A melee fighting tournament in the name of Halone. Rules are available to read here for anyone interested in participating. Please ensure you read them before signing up here. Eight slots are available, with 3-4 more reserve slots open in case of cancelations. If participants of the tournament cannot attend, please make sure to contact an admin to alert them so your spot can go to a reserve. Where: The Fury’s Gaze, Coerthas Central Highlands (x7.5, y 31.6), Mateus server. When: Friday 10th of January at 9 pm est. Who: Participation as fighters for the tournament is open to miqo’te only. However, anyone who is interested in keeper culture is welcome to attend as spectators.

Any further questions can be directed to

Event Runner: Aife Dolabnha(Aife#6195)

Admin(s): Nhym Nswala (Aio#1263) Mik'a Nswala (kosmic#1837)

@mooglemeet​​ @crystalxivrp​​ @mateusrpcalendar​​ @ffxiv-crystal-rp​​ @balmungrpcalendar​

[true-strike]

𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒 𝕕𝕖𝕚𝕥𝕪 // catelyn.

DEITY OF: War. Journeys. Exiles. Second chances. Smiths and metalworkers.

ASSOCIATED WITH: Combat. Thunderstorms. Travels. Metalworking. Long roads home. The midday sun. The heat of a forge. Gusts of wind. Finding one’s way back. Strength of heart. Protection of women. Blades hammered and quenched. Bruised knuckles. Scars from war. First blood. Courage in the face of overwhelming odds. Pride in oneself. The battle fever.

SACRED PLANTS: Amaryllis. Dahlias. Speedwell. Blackthorn.

SACRED STONES/GEMS: Lapis lazuli. Iron. Coal. Gold. The stone of Rustrock.

SACRED ANIMALS: Gray coeurls. Hawks. True griffins. 

COLORS: Gold. White. Blue. Purple. Red.

FOOD: Rare meat. Dates. Salt urchin. 

SCENTS: Cinnamon. Cardamom. Sandalwood. Hot metal. Burning coal. 

ACCEPTED OFFERINGS/WAYS TO HONOR:

To call upon Her is to call upon the storm. 

Her name is cried out by warriors who bury their blades in their foe’s flesh. Smiths offer Her silent supplication as they quench their works. Travelers ask for Her guidance along the roads, creating talismans of blackthorn wound around coal to carry in their packs. Her symbol is etched into iron by those far from home and held to their lips, prayers whispered under the noonday sun. Those who seek victory in battle paint Her markings along their cheeks in their blood. Women gather amaryllis from the banks of the Velodyna and wear it as adornment, seeking Her protection and strength. Her altars in the Lochs bear salt urchin, shells cracked open, and dates fresh from the palm.

HALONE FOUND HEƦSELF ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪᴇʟᴅ ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛᴏᴏʟꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʀ. ꜱʜᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ, ᴡɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴀꜰᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ, ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ.

ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜʀʏ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏɴ. “ɢʀᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴇᴠɪɴʙᴏʟᴛꜱ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ.”

ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏᴇʀ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴀʀʏ, ʀʜᴀʟɢʀ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʟᴇᴠɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇ ʜᴀʟᴏɴᴇ’ꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴀʀ. “ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇᴋ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɪᴅ?” ʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ?”

ʜᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ. ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴀᴢᴇʏᴍᴀ’ꜱ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴇᴀᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴡ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀʀ. ɪᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛʜᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄʟᴀᴘ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜꜱᴛʀᴏᴄᴋ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ʀᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜʀʏ’ꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɪᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀᴢᴜʟɪ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴇᴠɪɴ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴇɪɴꜱ.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜʀʏ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇᴅ ᴛʀɪᴜᴍᴘʜᴀɴᴛʟʏ. “ꜱʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ, ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ.”

tagged by: @whitherwanderer​ tagging: @siegryn​ // @otolin-xiv​ // @finishing-touch​ // @ember-arrow​ // @s-udarshana​ // @honoura​

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||20) 7. Nonagenarian.

“You truly do not remember me, Mistress Bale? What a shame. Then again, such vanity is a sin, to expect that this humble priest might have left an impression on such a bright young girl.” Father Riafaut’s voice was a bit rusty with his many decades, yet in the way of all Elezen, the years had yet to truly ravage his features. He was still handsome, Anne-Sophie supposed, if one was fond of silver hair and nature’s map of a life lived largely out in nature engraved upon his face. 

“Forgive me, Father,” she replied, her voice swallowed up by the vastness of the nave of Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral, the great statue of Halone looking ever above the heads of even the tallest of the Races of Man. “It is just...I suppose I was always lost in my books, even back then, and now I am lost in my prayers to the Fury.” She smiled brightly, hoping to convey that she was done talking; alas, the old man, much like many of his peers, was not to be swayed.

“Yes, such a young girl you were, then. Yet already that hair was shining copper, and your skin that rich toasted almond shade...from your mother’s side, I understand? Something about a Dzemael scion somewhere back in your family tree...quite the scandal, that was, as I recall.” He laughed, a thin, papery sound. “But then, lust has often been the sin of your family, has it not? We all have our vices; none are free from flaws, as well the Fury knows.” Moving closer to Anne-Sophie, his robes swished behind him, and Anne-Sophie was put in mind of a hawk gathering itself to dive for its prey. “I wonder...did that particular brand of, shall we say, indiscretion find its way into you? If so, why...I believe I could make things go very well for you after your graduation from the Scholasticate. Much better than any Hyuran woman could reasonably expect in this city, anyroad.” 

Anne-Sophie closed her eyes; ah, one of those priests. “Unfortunately, Father Riafaut, I am entirely uncertain as to what you are implying. As it happens,” she continued, opening her eyes and getting to her feet, “my midday prayers have concluded. I will return for the Vespers, with the rest of my classmates. Halone’s gaze watch over you, Father!” Turning on her heel, she made her way out of the cathedral, never once looking back. Still, she could feel his eyes on her retreating form even long after the great doors had closed behind her.

[elegant-etienne]

❛ People fuck up. ❜

The Haunting of Hill House Prompts!

Thank you for the ask, @ocarina-of-what! I feel like I’ve written a lot on this subject, but every time I reapproach the scene, I learn a little something new about it.

WARNINGS: Etienne in a drunk and extremely mentally compromised state, violence, sexual content, something worth doing a revenge over. All the greatest hits in this one.

It could be done, so long as you made sure to never do it. That was the important thing. It was alright to have the knowledge as long as you never, ever used it. Self-righteous and pragmatic as Etienne was, of course they assumed they could handle the information. But then, of course, they also thought they could handle the guy they were dating. They also thought it was fine that they’d started drinking again.

(No it wasn’t, nothing was fine, but it was – it was what was happening. It was a reality to accept. They absolutely refused to tolerate the idea that their life was like a chocobo cart careening off the path and losing wheels in a cacophony of panicked squawking and flying feathers).

A few bells ago in the little tavern in Hawk’s nest they paid too much gil for some very thin, greasy soup. They stared at the soldiers as they came and went, watched the cook as he barked out commands. Etienne imagined what their bodies looked like beneath their shapeless frocks, their dented armor. Who had a paunch, who was muscled, who shaved their bits so it didn’t chafe so much in the tight smallclothes beneath the cold armor. Etienne drank ale, functionally not that much better than the soup, but that did better to help take the edge off the headache.

Etienne took mental bets on which of them they could seduce, even though they didn’t live like that anymore. The cook likes it in the arse, obviously, and probably wants to get spanked, probably wanted to call me Mommy or Daddy. Whatever you want, baby boy. Even with the war done, the youngest soldiers are scared, want a cuddle, want to be reassured they’re very good, want to say their last confessions to someone other than a priest. Yes, little ones, I can oblige that. Say a prayer to Halone and I’ll kiss you good night. Buy me a bottle of wine first, though, baby, so I won’t remember your face later.

All of them idiots. All of them living like there’s still a war.

Because the war will always be with them.

The war, which excused so much–

If Etienne cheated, would their lover leave? Could they get free, untangled, by tangling with someone else? Oh, but they didn’t really want to do it. They just wanted everyone else to be naked, because then Etienne could see their expressions. If everyone here was naked, they’d be the same.

Bent over, limp as the vegetables in the barrel he carried, was a middle-aged someone. Just a bastard, well, less of a bastard than Etienne, technically, but emotionally, a bastard, real filth, real scum. That fucker. Him. From that time. Horrible bastard. Etienne met his gaze from their corner of the tavern, and he looked confused, but no recognition. So of course. Of course, Etienne had to go talk to him. Let’s take it outside, baby, take me on a walk out in the snow, it’s so pretty and I’ve been away from Coerthas foreeever. It’s not dark yet, please, take me.

Hey sweetie, do you remember me? Do you remember? Tell me what you remember, tell me your fucking excuse, and then tell me why I should let you live.

This was the moment:

They realized it could be done. They thought: This star would be better without you, you fucker. They thought: I’m so very sick of being the better person. Everyone always wants me to be the better person. Everyone always wants me to put up with everything. I’m so sick of keeping my mouth shut. I’m so sick of everything, so sick of everything, so sick of fucking everything. I’m so sick I should die, but he should die more.

It could be done and why the fuck did it matter what happened to them after they did it? Who gave a fuck about moral implications? For that moment, Etienne felt a certain sense of righteous justice course through them, and they spoke the words. They felt, for a moment, the aether pulse breathing through everything, running through the top of their head to the bottom of their feet like a circuit, connected like veins, like roots, like Allagan tech. The snow wolves loping along the curve of a hillside, intent on a buffalo calf that trailed behind its mother. The deepeyes hopping about and digging in the snow, ready to freeze anything that moved in their gaze. The soldiers back in town. The cook. The stables full of chocobo. No one nearby. Just him, who deserved it.

And they closed their eyes. Touched that deep underground lake of aether deep in their stomach, the one they were only ever supposed to take a few sips from. The one that’s supposed to have a lever and a dam, and careful regulation. They slammed the aether like a shot of whiskey, and kept drinking. Felt that fiery white aether coursing through their veins, the magic that keeps the heart, the mind going, and took several rough swallows, and that was enough that they nearly blacked out for a second, but they got it back, and their staff was raised above their head, pulsing purple and black and red, and as Etienne released that aether, the air froze like diamonds, glittering, and in the sky the most beautiful mountain of ice had formed–

He was crying. The bastard was crying. Well, of course he was. Regular people don’t want to die.

Too bad, though.

This was the moment after:

Blood on the snow. There’s a fairytale like that, ha ha, snow white blood red ha ha ha –

And the vomit was pale and frothy and not like a fairy tale at all. And then there was blood in the vomit, too, and gasping and crying, steam in the snow.

Three days after, they were still barely keeping food down, barely sleeping. A chunk of hair fell out. Moving hurt, and their teeth chattered in the wind, even up in the Sea of Clouds, the strange, bright sun that Abalythia’s Spine liked to dream about.

Gloves not warm enough. Fur-lined coat not warm enough. Couldn’t do the spells, stumbling along in the grass, shivering and begging and barely alive. 

“I did something bad,” they told their lover when the mission was over and they finally came home. When they sat with tea in their FC room pretending it was fine, everything was fine, they hadn’t fought before they left, Etienne hadn’t shouted before they left. “I fucked up. I killed someone. I used black magic.”

Which one of them decided that they shouldn’t tell anyone? Which of them decided to keep it a secret?

“It makes sense,” Etienne said from far away, “We should both have one.”

Three months later, they used that spell to win a battle. It was worse after that, all of that, but it was, at least, for a good reason. And they thought doing it a third time would probably kill them. There would be nothing left.

Not that there was much left anyway. Whatever wreckage was left, they figured, would be able to use the spell again someday, once more.

[theblueswallow]

LFRP - Sybelle Cassalantar

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: Fifty summers.

Nameday: 14th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Single

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Dark blue, with light-blue dyed highlights.

Eyes: Violet 

Height: 200 cm

Build: Tall, athletic and long-legged

Distinguishing Marks: Dark-blue skin, crystalline violet eyes, she’s tall enough to pluck the stars from the sky (could probably jump to those she can’t reach)

Common Accessories: Earrings on her ears, occasionally a choker matching her outfit, flowers in her hair.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Adventurer (Lancer, Machinist & novice Astromancer)

Hobbies: Cooking, sewing, helping people out, playing with children, petting / feeding every cute critter in sight (any unsupervised minions will be adopted on sight)

Languages: Common. Knows very, very little Gelmorran (her family name, basically)

Residence: Has a permanent room rented at the Quicksand in Ul’dah; is currently furnishing an apartment at the Topmast in Mist, Limsa Lominsa. Is looking for opportunities to return to Ishgard.

Birthplace: The Coerthan Western Highlands

Patron Deity: Halone, regular believer.

Fears: Loneliness, despair, helplessness, going back to the ‘old life’.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: None yet

Children: None yet?

Parents: Passed away.

Siblings: Sole child.

Other Relatives: None she knows of.

Pets: Misha the Hunting Hawk; Cuddles the Red Panda; Prince the Behemoth pup; Kitty the Coeurl kitten. Honorable mention: Goldrin the golden Chocobo, the best companion a girl could hope to have.

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

RP HOOKS ––– –

A Gentle Soul: You might not catch her in lively, chaotic places very often (she gets lost in a sea of masses easily), but rather in cozy, secluded corners of areas she had time to familiarize herself with. The Carline Canopy is almost like a second home whenever she happens to be in Grdiania; the Hall of Flames in Ul’dah is also a likely place to catch her. Lately, she’s spending a lot of time in Ishgard, helping out in the Brume and absorbing the studies of astrology to the best of her abilities.

The Road Suits A Traveler: More often than not, she’s on the road towards places - either on a job for the Adventurer’s Guild, to help out the locals or simply to stay in motion. She will always stop to greet and chat fellow travelers should they welcome it.

The Valiant’s Trust: Sybelle has recently thrown her lot with The Valiant’s Trust, a philanthropic Free Company where she places her full faith to not only be in a position to better help those in need, but also form ties with like-minded people and finally belong to a community.

Succor for the Lost: Sybelle is very keen on helping those who need it, and would do so happily for free. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her empathy can be easily taken advantage of (whether she realizes it or not).

OOC INFORMATION  ––– –

Hi! I’m Syb-mun. I also go by Tyb (Yes. I’m *that* Tyb, if you ever were part of the LoL Tumblr RP fandom) or Shan (from WoW). You can call me Syb, though!

I’m 24 yo, July baby, female but you can call me whatever. As long as I recognize you’re talking to me :’)

EU, Romanian Timezone (GMT +3) Forever sad because I practically live in Narnia and away from all the cool people.

I don’t have a life so I’m almost always online, though.

I really love cats and I adore birds, unironically.

I play games, lots of MMO experiences. FF14 is now my favorite because oh my god visible jewelry? And minions that clamber on your shoulder? SIGN ME THE F  U  C  K   U  P.

Oh yeah I also swear a lot. Pls excuse, it’s not u, it’s me - I just have pent-up anger issues.

I also have the attention span of a squirrel, and the memory of a goldfish.

If I forget anything important, pls excuse. I don’t know how Tumblr works sometimes.

Oh yeah, @liott-monar is my girlfriend and she’s the reason I got into FF14. Blame her, m’kay?

SCREENSHOT CREDITS: @liott-monar for the gifs and Fida Viras for the amazing screenshots used in this post. If I find her URL I promise I’ll tag. <3 <3 <3

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

In Game - Sybelle Cassalantar @ Balmung, Crystal Data Center.

Tumblr - @theblueswallow

Discord: Tybresa#9200. Feel free to add me and shoot me a message!

[houserosaire]

A small wooden box carefully wrapped in brown paper was delivered in rather roundabout fashion to a flat in Limsa Lominsa, addressed to one Xavipere Secariot.

Within the box an envelope rested atop what seemed to be a Halonic rosary of sapphire, onyx, and gold.

The seal on the envelope was of blue wax and bore the familiar sigil of a hawk encircled by the beads of the rosary it clutched in its talons. The letter inside was written with a firm hand, neat and fluent cursive, though without a hint of extra flourish:

Viper, I have meant to find a way to address… or perhaps I mean to redress this, for some time. I meant to try to seek this conversation with you in person but after a great deal of thought I have come to the conclusion that perhaps the attempt at such a conversation would not profit either of us very greatly.

So what I have to say I will say to the best of my ability here. You need offer no response at all. Unless you wish to do so.

I had no idea of your feelings for my elder brother nor his for you. Perhaps that might have changed had things ended differently, but that is a fruitless speculation. In any case since I was made aware, I have been trying to imagine myself in your shoes. And I can say with all sincerity that I am as sorry for your loss as I am for my own.

I cannot undo anything else, but this one thing perhaps I can correct. It occurs to me that while I have a house full of mementos, perchance you have had nothing to remember him by. Enclosed find the rosary he carried with him always. I hope it will bring you something like comfort.

-Silvaineaux @thedarknesssings for Viper

[aidan-hawke]

💭w💭

“There’s a soft heart in there. Just don’t tell her directly. It’s important to respect how a lady wants to be perceived.” “Shite, he makes me feel like I need to be a big brother to him. Namely, anyone who bullies him has to deal with me coming for ‘em.”

[casualcatte]

[ Memery ] Questionnaire :: Aultena Sephimiri

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Aultena Sephimiri NICKNAME: Tena, Ten-Ten, “Goldie” (only by Ezra Elric) AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: 22nd Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon ETHNIC GROUP: Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te (non-tribal) NATIONALITY: Ishgardian (from Tailfeather, Dravanian Forelands) LANGUAGE/S: Hyuran, Miqo’te, Sharlayan SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Straight RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single HOME TOWN / AREA: Tailfeather, Dravanian Forelands CURRENT HOME: Tailfeather, Dravanian Forelands (Also Lavender Beds, Ward 5, Lily Hills Subdivision, Apartment #53) PROFESSION: Huntress and Professional Forager

[ Courtesy Cut for Length ] 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Mid-back wavy dark blue hair, usually braided EYES: Gold FACE: Angular, eyes always vigilant LIPS: Thin Cupid’s Bow COMPLEXION: Dusky blue-gray skin BLEMISHES: None SCARS: Many scars criss-cross her body from the various monsters and beasts that have caught her unawares over the years. TATTOOS: None HEIGHT: 5′4″ (she’s tall for a miqo’te!) WEIGHT: Average BUILD: Lean and muscular FEATURES: N/A ALLERGIES: Cats (yes, the irony!) USUAL HAIR STYLE:  Braided, usually draping to the right side of her neck USUAL FACE LOOK: Alert, Vigilant, aware of her surroundings and the people in it USUAL CLOTHING: Republican Sagittarius’ Chiton in Raptor Blue

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Failing to avenge her parents, Losing someone she loves (again) ASPIRATION/S: To hunt and kill Saurotaun the beast that killed her parents POSITIVE TRAITS: Protective of those she cares about, can be very focused about certain things, generally kind until provoked NEGATIVE TRAITS: Has a temper, can be impatient, very impulsive TEMPERAMENT:  Vigilant, fidgety SOUL TYPE/S: Bard (Astrologian, later via story) ANIMALS:  A hunting hawk VICE HABIT/S: FAITH: Ambivalent GHOSTS?:  Only if she sees them AFTERLIFE?:  No REINCARNATION?:  No POLITICAL ALIGNMENT:  Disinterested EDUCATION LEVEL: Educated to read and write, some moderate Ishgardian history.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Rhaza Sephimiri MOTHER: Maora Sephimiri SIBLINGS: None EXTENDED FAMILY:  None NAME MEANING/S:  None.  Maora just thought it sounded pretty. HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: N/A

FAVORITES.

BOOK: She’s not too interested in books yet, though she is picking up more and more books on Astromancy DEITY: Menphina by moon-catte preference, Oschon by personal choice, Halone by Ishgardian teachings HOLIDAY: Moonfire Faire SEASON:  Autumn PLACE: Outdoors camping WEATHER: Crisp, cool autumn afternoons right before it rains SOUND / S: Guitar playing, the sound of a stream SCENT / S: Sandalwood & lavender TASTE / S: Ishgardian Red Wine FEEL / S: A warm fire, a soft, comfortable blanket ANIMAL / S: Loves chocobos and most any other domestic animal, except cats. NUMBER:  17 - The number of tries it took her to hit her first bull’s eye COLORS: Blue, silver, gold, jewel tones

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Hunting, tracking, foraging, surviving in the wild, making/breaking camp, building a fire, moving stealthily in the forest, reading the weather, cooking outdoors (but NOT indoors) BAD AT: Being cultured, building/constructing anything, cooking indoors TURN ONS: Confidence, a sense of humor, respect of her space, independence, strength, dark hair, pointy ears TURN OFFS: People who are only out for sex, unwanted touching, noisy/boisterous people, smokers, habitual drug users, drunkards, cowards HOBBIES:  Music (playing and composing), Music (listening to), whittling TROPES: N/A QUOTES: “Keep up or go home, the hunt is no place for the half-hearted.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?  An epic, sweeping adventure story (peppered with a little romance), reminiscent of Record of Lodoss War.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?  Pretty much Two Steps from Hell’s entire discography on repeat.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character? I had the urge to play a miqo’te, like, the thought wouldn’t leave me alone.  So, I made one and it just kinda stuck. XD

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?  Besides my miqo’te fixation, Aultena as a character was really vocal about who she was and her story. I haven’t had a character speak to me like that as a writer in a long time.

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.  I don’t know that there’s anything I really dislike about her. Maybe she’s a little wishy-washy about her feelings sometimes, but we’re all like that on occasion.

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?  Bad tempers?  XD  Aultena’s way more active and spirited than I am. 

Q7 :   How does your muse feel about you?  I’m sure Tena would think I’m a soft, fluffy weakling that needs to stay out of her way.  

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?   Aultena spends a lot of time with Ezra Elric (courtesy of @vivalaezra) but she also has some interesting interactions with Rae-Hann and Zhan’a Rakhin (courtsey of @yokasaris)

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?   @vivalaezra a lot of the time, he’s always prodding me on Discord to write things.  Also all the memes and questionnaires I get here, usually from @eligos-venator, @cahli-tia, and @yokasaris

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?  About 20 minutes between internet disconnects.  XP

Tagged by @vivalaezra: Thank you for the much-needed distraction! Tagging @yokasaris @eligos-venator @cahli-tia My Three Musketeers of usual suspects!  <3 -- And YOU if you’re reading this and want to do the thing!  Just be sure to tag me somewhere so I can come and see!