#i think it starts with them being shared souls within the Aether

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

A Promise For My Queen of Darkness

(A short oneshot for @jamieaiken919 x Edward Richtofen)

Oh, my sweet revenge will be yours

For the taking… It’s in the making, baby!

Julia had been worried for some time now. She had been traveling with the Ultimis crew since the very beginning. When you already have pre-existing knowledge of the timelines, it makes you feel utterly helpless. She knew either ending would be a total disaster. Either everyone’s stuck on the moon and Richtofen’s trapped in a zombie… or everyone dies “for the sake of a better tomorrow.” She couldn’t tell him he was from a video game! Those hadn’t existed around his time nor any place they time traveled. The only way was to phrase it as a prophetic dream. That’s how she “predicted” those explorers to show up trapped in Shangri-La. How she knew of Group 935’s mission and the severity of the outbreak.

She wasn’t able to pay attention so well during the Doctor’s elaborate explanation for the evening. Edward knew something felt… off. When he had the chance to dismiss everyone, he placed a hand on his lover’s shoulder. “Liebchen… are you alright?” Edward asked. Julia tried to turn her face away slightly, afraid of being seen so obviously troubled. Julia sighed.“It’s okay, hon. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, schnucki! I can easily read when you’re upset too!”

Normally, Julia would laugh when he tried to be silly and squish her cheeks to kissy lips like this. But he eased his cup around her face realizing something more serious was going on. This was no ordinary depressive cloud hanging over. Richtofen recognized her expression as something he’s been burdened with before. His face became stone serious, determined to know what was really going on. “Come to the office with me.”

They headed down the hallway of the lonesome desk of the worn down Soviet facility. It was filthy with dust, decay and oxidized stains of what was hopefully zombie blood. The doctor ushered her into the cushioned office chair, while he stood tall in front of the desk. He tilts his head and locks on with her. “Are you afraid to tell me what’s going on, Julia? I need to know.” Julia furrowed her brows and sheepishly looked up at him. “It’s about our future. N-not us! I mean… I mean what happens next in the plan.” Richtofen softened to a sullen expression. It almost seemed like the visor of his uniform hat shadowed his vision. “You know about my real intentions, don’t you?” He droned.

“…I don’t want to lose you, Edward.”

“Wait- what?”

His mood shifted in an instant. She wasn’t mad that he was going to find the MPD and acquire infinite power?

“No matter what happens, I’m afraid of losing you forever.” Julia trembled. “Either Maxis is going to ruin everything for your grand scheme or somehow you die in the end.” Richtofen started to giggle… Then chuckle… And then raise his tone to a maniacal cackle. He threw his head back and fell down to the floor, kicking his feet childishly. It was a bit frightening to see. “Me? DIE?! HA! Oh, my dear, you are too sweet to worry about mein well-being. But I always have tricks up mein sleeve.” He grinned at her like the cheeky bastard he was. “Did you really think I’d leave you out of my plans?”

He leaned over the desk and lifted her chin with his index finger. His overconfident leer was oddly intoxicating. “I know you were gifted to me for a special reason.” Richtofen whispered. His breath was warm and gentle against her neck. He pulled away smiling, hoping to tease her more. “The voices told me you are not of this world. You only know about the future because your world showed it to you! They said it was from something called an X’ed box. I have never heard of this revolutionary artifact before. I hope to find it and see for myself. But, I digress.”

He wraps his arms around her neck and presses his forehead against hers. This alone was the hidden language the two often shared for comfort. “I need to make sure you’re still safe in the end too. A victory without you isn’t truly worth celebrating.” Reassured, his better half had a meek smile. He kissed her on the bridge of her nose.

“My dearest Queen, I vow to keep you safe und ruling beside me. I only ask for your undying loyalty and help to achieve this goal in the end… no matter the price of destruction we need to get there.”

Julia thought about it for a while and nodded. “I promise.”

He raised his head and lifted his hand.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

They curled their pinkies and shook on their pact.

“But… I don’t think I will be ensuing as much destructive chaos as much as you do, liebling.” Julia laughed.

Richtofen pouted slightly. “But that’s the fun part! Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go apeshit and make all who’ve wronged you kiss the ground you walk on? I’ll arrange it!”

Julia tried to hold back laughter at his usual antics.

“Ach, no matter! I’m sure in due time, you’ll come to your senses. We have much to do.”

They had to prepare and discuss their shared grand scheme. The world better kneel now. Because when the King and Queen arrive, nothing will get in their way.

[highlycosmic]

a writeblr re-introduction

About me:

Hi, my name is Atlas (they/them); a twenty something year old, aspiring storyteller, living in London. I write and draw sometimes.

What to expect from his blog:

Aside from the copious memes, there will be character biographies, world building exercises, writing prompts, and the occasional illustration. Currently working on the same project this blog started with 5 years ago, revolting to think about but that’s what happens when you pick up an old hyper-fixation you just can’t seem to let go.

What’s your project?

I’m so glad you asked, the working title is Where Souls End, a fantasy adventure novel set in the afterlife.

Quick Pitch:

The Aether, neither heaven nor hell, but rather, a single afterlife.

Human souls are shaped by the lives they lead, moulded by experiences and bonds shared with others but are doomed to start again, losing every connection they’ve built at the death of their human body. Trapped within an endless cycle of reincarnation, simply being reborn again and again until a soul becomes powerful enough to break free of that cycle, only then are they reborn a final time to live an eternal, limitless life in the Aether, regaining every memory, piece of knowledge, and bond experienced in the human world.

Mavis is reborn into a world completely unknown, memories that were meant to return elude her mind as she navigates a world struggling to maintain stability. She finds herself in a miraculous town where everyone is suspiciously happy for a world in turmoil. Although, after her arrival, things begin to turn strange. Souls start going missing without explanation and Mavis quickly finds herself at the root of suspicions as she uncovers the tarnished history of this town and its inhabitants.

I’m excited to get back into this - hope you’ll support whatever this brain churns out!

[sleepy-razor]

Found Family(Platonic Genshin + Child!Reader)

Request!!: Ok get this— platonic fluff, how certain characters react to meeting child reader for the first time- i just want that tooth rotting, coma inducing, sweet fluff. Whether its both as kids, or idk they’re adopting you as a kid or you’re their new sibling la k e please i need this— anyway imagine like kaeya, diluc, razor, Xiao, Aether——ok anyway toodle loo

Warnings: None that I can think of??

Characters: Aether, Diluc, Jean(feat. Barbara), Kaeya, Razor, Xiao

Notes: I went ahead and added Jean and Barbara in the mix because I love Jean, I hope that’s okay!

Aether

Aether was no stranger to kids.

He’d helped care for many in the other worlds he’d visited with Lumine, but you still came to him as a surprise.

He’d found you in Mondstadt, scared and alone in the streets, and the first thing he did was take you to the Knights of Favonius headquarters to search for your parents. 

Unfortunately, nothing had come up within two weeks, and by that time, you had gotten attached.

Aether took it in stride, welcoming you like a big brother would, with a smile and open arms. He often times takes you traveling and will leave you with trusted individuals if a particular commission is too dangerous.

It’s late by the time Aether returns to the Wangshu Inn. Verr Goldet greets him with a warm smile, handing him the key he’d left with her to make sure you were being cared for while he was gone.

“How were they?”

“Well-behaved, as always,” Verr Goldet responds, laughing softly to herself. “They might still be awake, though. They insisted on staying up to welcome you home.”

Aether’s heart swells hearing that, and his eyes burn with unshed tears, though he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, he thanks Verr Goldet and quickly makes his way up the stairs and to the room that you’d be sharing for the night.

As she had said, there you were, sitting up in the bed in your pajamas, squinting sleepily at the door as it creaked open. “Welcome back,” you mutter, trying (and failing) to stifle a yawn.

“[Name], you should be asleep by now,” Aether gently scolds, walking toward the bed after he removes his boots. He scoops you into his arms as he settles down on the bed, caging you in a warm hug.

“I wanted to make sure you came back safely,” you respond, your voice growing quieter as the added warmth draws you further into dreamland.

God, Aether almost died after hearing you say that.

He vows to protect you with his life, holding you close as you fall asleep.

Your family may have had a strange start, but you two wouldn’t have it any other way.

Diluc

You were, by no means, a surprise.

Diluc had planned meticulously for your arrival after receiving word from the Knights of Favonius that they had recovered a child from a village that had been ransacked by the Abyss.

You were quiet for the first few days, slightly unnerved by the new surroundings and the sheer amount of people (Diluc and the staff) doting on you, but eventually you warmed up to everyone.

Eventually, you took to following Diluc around the vineyards surrounding the manor, and even “patrolling” it on your own to make sure there were no grape thieves.

It didn’t bother you when Diluc had to leave for long periods of time either.

You knew about his work as the “Darknight Hero”, though you had sworn you wouldn’t tell a single soul about it.

Adelinde was the one in charge of your care while Diluc was away, making sure you were well-fed and keeping up with your studies.

Diluc made sure to spend as much time as he could with you, remembering just how happy it made him that Crepus would play with him.

“[Name],” Diluc calls into the manner, shrugging his coat onto his shoulders. “Are you ready?”

“Almost!” comes the response, followed by the overhead thumping of your footsteps as you all but flew down the stairs. You grabbed your backpack, one that Albedo had kindly made for you, skidding to a stop at Diluc’s feet with a wide grin on your face.

Amused by your enthusiasm, Diluc snorts and reaches down to ruffle your hair. “Good,” he hums. “We wouldn’t want to be late to see everyone, now would we?”

His heart lifts at the way your face brightened further and you start excitedly rambling about getting to see Kaeya again. He takes your hand in his, and together, you begin the trek to the city.

Jean(feat. Barbara)

Barbara was the one who brought you to her.

You had just been deposited on the doorstep of the church with no clue as to who your family was or how you got there, so at a loss, Barbara brought you to her big sister for help. 

A search was conducted, but unfortunately the results came up empty.

After learning such news, Jean decided that she would be the one to take care of you.

It was rocky at first, after all it had been years since Barbara had been a small child, but she eventually got the hang of it again.

The other Knights see you as a godsend, because ever since Jean took you in, she’s been taking more breaks instead of being cooped up behind her desk all the time.

You were quite the little troublemaker, and often got hurt while tripping over your own feet or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Barbara was exasperated by the fact, as was Jean, but they knew that you were just a kid, and scrapes were bound to happen now and again.

“Miss Barbara! Look what I found!”

Barbara lifts her head as you come bounding through the cathedral, a bundle of white flowers clutched tightly in your little hands.

“Oh? What is it, [Name]?”

She crouches down to get a better look. Cecilias.

“Flora gave them to me!” you exclaim proudly, eyes sparkling. “I thought you and Miss Jean would like them!”

Barbara’s smile widens at the thought. “Thank you so much,” she praises, placing a hand on your head. “Why don’t we go and give them to Jean now?”

You nod enthusiastically, and Barbara scoops you up into her arms, carrying you off to surprise your big sister.

Kaeya

Kaeya was the one to find you on the way to the Angel’s Share to have a drink with Rosaria.

You were new to the city, at least, that’s what Kaeya had assumed, considering he had never seen you before.

He had tried to ask you if you knew where your family was, to which you shook your head.

You had just moved to the city, and had gotten separated from your parents while you had been exploring.

Kaeya made it his personal mission to reunite you with your family, and luckily, that was done quickly.

Your parents were relieved that you’d been found and were safe, and thanked Kaeya profusely.

They quickly came to trust him, and were much more comfortable with letting you run around the city on your own if they knew he was patrolling.

You’re hiding around here somewhere. Kaeya knows that for a fact. You had a strange fixation with hiding from the Cavalry Captain so he could find you and start the game all over again.

He didn’t mind it, you were like a younger sibling to him, and your parents trusted him a great deal with your safety. The way you followed him around and begged him to play with you reminded him of when he and Diluc had been children, and the time spent with you filled the emptiness their bond had once filled.

Well, speak of the devil.

As Kaeya is lost in thought, a small weight slams into one of his legs, little arms wrapping around it as the Cavalry Captain stumbled with a good-natured laugh. “Well, hello to you too, [Name],” he greets you with a smile, his hand coming to land on your head.

You say nothing, only tipping your head back to beam up at him. The backpack on your shoulders tells him that school has just ended, and you had decided to seek him out before heading home.

“Tell me how your day was,” Kaeya says, taking your hand. “And I’ll make sure you get home safely.”

Razor

Razor had no clue what to do with you when he found you.

A small child wandering around Wolvendom? Didn’t you realize how dangerous that was, especially since you didn’t have a vision?

He tried his best to ask you questions and figure out where you came from, but he wasn’t getting anywhere on his own, so he ended up seeking out Bennett for help.

When he learned that you had no family to speak of, Razor decided right then and there that you would be part of his Lupical.

He set about teaching you how to hunt in the woods, and how to communicate with the wolves, though the latter took more time for you to master than he would have liked.

Nonetheless, you showed extreme promise as a hunter with your quick thinking and your sharp reflexes.

The wolves took to you very quickly as well, though Andrius was more apprehensive when Razor tried explaining the situation to him.

Eventually you were properly accepted into the pack, and Razor deigned you his younger sibling.

“Razor!”

The wolf boy turns, eyes lighting up when you come bounding through the trees.

“[Name]!”

He catches you in a hug when you throw yourself into his arms.

“How was the city?”

“Crowded,” you answer, beaming up at him. “I met with Lisa, though! She taught me how to read a bit more, and even gave me a book to bring back with me!” You turn, rummaging in your bag before pulling out the book in question.

It’s short, nothing more than a mere picture book, but the way your eyes gleam with pride is absolutely worth the accomplishment. “Proud of you,” Razor praises, and you seem to almost glow from the praise.

“After we eat, I could probably read to you and Lupical later,” you say excitedly, following your older brother as he begins to lead you back through the forest.

Razor only smiles. “Lupical would love that.”

Xiao

It was no secret that Xiao kept his distance from mortals.

He couldn’t risk them becoming affected by his karmic debt, but in the end, he can only avoid them until they start intentionally seeking him out.

Which, in some cases, was you.

You had been adopted by Verr Goldet and Huai’an, becoming a permanent resident of the inn where you were allowed to run amok and play to your heart’s content, so long as you stayed out of trouble.

The first time you’d run into Xiao was by complete accident.

You, in typical childlike curiosity, had snuck up to the balcony that you had been warned was completely off-limits, desperate to see the view from that high up.

And there he was, standing with his back turned to the doorway and arms crossed over his chest.

You greeted him politely, as you had seen Verr do when new guests arrived downstairs, and Xiao whirled around, staring at you with wide and bewildered eyes before disappearing in a flurry of black and green.

Huai’an found you soon after, scooping you up into his arms and bringing you back down the stairs, quietly scolding you for breaking the rules.

Curious, you asked your adoptive parents about the strange man standing on the balcony, and, unable to escape the situation, they told you the story of the Vigilant Yaksha.

Xiao knows you’re coming this time, senses on high alert for the child who he had come to learn was Verr Goldet’s child.

He’s thankful you hadn’t cried when he disappeared on you, not like the last child who had ventured up here. Startled the poor thing.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” he says, listening to your feet patter against the wooden balcony before coming to a stop behind him.

“I brought you something,” you say.

He already knows, he could smell the almond tofu all the way from the first floor.

Xiao turns to regard you carefully.

You smile. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Liyue,” you say carefully. Verr Goldet must have helped you rehearse what you wanted to say. “I asked Smiley Yanxiao to make you your favorite.”

Xiao’s heart melts at the admission, though he would be quick to deny it. Instead, he mumbles a quiet thanks and takes the bowl from your outstretched hands.

Satisfied that your task is complete, you say goodbye to the adeptus and run for the stairs, tossing a promise that you’d be back tomorrow over your shoulder.

Xiao definitely isn’t looking forward to it. Not by a long shot.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.3; Lantern Rite Part 2

Author’s Note:  Happy Valentine’s Day ;)

........

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave... Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table. "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," Zhongli straightened. "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all. If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive. Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby. "Tch. How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position.  A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again.  "I would only be prolonging her untimely demise.  If we stay together, if she stays by my side, my sins will affect her with or without the bond."

"That is correct."

The archon was never one to sugarcoat things.  "It would be selfish of me to admit to those emotions, selfish to indulge in them--she would die at my hand."

"Yes."

"Then why should I seal the bond, if us getting closer seals her fate?"  The yaksha's voice nearly cracked, but he hid it well with his piercing gaze as he questioned his master.  "Why?"

"How long do you plan on protecting Liyue?"

The random question made the yaksha falter.  "For as long as our contract endures."  What a silly question--it wasn't even for debate.  It was his duty to protect Liyue, to absolve his sins and pay thanks to the archon that redeemed him.  Why would Zhongli bring it up now?

"How much longer can you protect those who reside in Liyue?  How long until the cracks begin to form within you, too?"

'Just as my fallen friends...' Xiao searched his master's eyes for a moment before parting his lips.  "I--"

"I do not know the end of your story, Xiao, but I brought your unruly fate upon you.  When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone."

.........................

Zhongli watched the three of you push your way through the crowd to greet him, his eyes narrowing at you in particular.  "I see you have found your other teammates," he nodded approvingly.

"Yeah."  You hadn't stopped scanning the crowd, and didn't so much as look his way despite being prodded by Aether.

"Something's wrong with her," the boy warned Zhongli.  "She's not--"

"Do not concern yourself, traveler.  She will be just fine."

"Huh?"  Paimon grumbled.  "What do you mean by that?  Have you no concern for her?"

"We've convened earlier today.  I will inform you, but first..." His eyes slid back to you, and he raised his voice to catch your attention.  "You wish to see him?"

"Hm?  U-um, yes..."  His piercing gaze saw right through you, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.  "What?"

"I'd advise you to leave the harbor," he nodded to the mountainside that was on the other side of the city gates.  You nodded a quick thanks before running away at full speed.

I'm here, Xiao.  But the yaksha didn't need to hear your impolite prayers to know that you were, when he could hear the distinct conversations of the people you ran past even though he was literal miles away from the harbor.

..............

You felt him before you saw him.  Sitting on the rocky hill that overlooked the guarded entrance of Liyue Harbor, you peered over your shoulder to find the one person you had longed to see all day.  The yaksha stopped in his tracks when you met his eyes.  

"What...are you doing here?"  It was like he was uncertain if he was hallucinating, eyes narrowing cynically as you stood to greet him.  It was clear that he was weary from his day-long battle, but any pure exhaustion was hidden behind his tough façade.  

"Childe brought me back for the Lantern Rite," you caught him snarling when you said the harbinger's name.  "I--"

Your vision was suddenly obscured by his face once he appeared before you at the speed of light.  His hand gingerly traced your cheek, a rare gentleness, a fondness seeping through his cynical eyes.  You hadn't realized how much you had been craving his touch;  your hand kept him from removing his from your cheek.  How long had it been?  Two weeks? It had to have been three by now, but it felt like an eternity from how much you had to deal with Childe or watch people die.

Real, Xiao's lips twitched into an unnoticeable smile, but the light in his eyes was bright as day.  The two of you stood with foreheads pressed together for who knows how long until the yaksha was the one to pull away and regain his neutral composure.  His eyes floated to that of the dark ocean before landing on the small lantern that sat next to your viewing rock.

"They'll be releasing them soon," you say, noticing his gaze.  "I meant to make two, but it turns out its REALLY hard to make them..."

"Mm."  He acknowledged you before sitting on the left side of the rock, silently prompting you to join him.

You did.  "H-hey, is that blood?"  You finally noticed the smear on his right cheek, worry entering your voice.  "Are you okay? Here, let me see--"

"It's not mine."  Xiao leaned away from your hand and wiped the smudge away himself.

Back to pushing me away, you faltered back, wavering eyes refocusing their attention on the black horizon to distract yourself from the hurt that panged in your chest.  You sat on your hands as if to close yourself off from him--to restrain yourself from invading his personal space.

I did it again.  Xiao inwardly cursed himself out for causing the sad look in your eyes.  It's not like he meant to.  He's too used to shutting people out for their safety; he's too accustomed to being alone.  Xiao watched you out of the corner of his eye before finally gathering the courage to speak.  She needs to know.

"I need you to understand," he started, sending you a brief glance before facing the ocean again.  "Yakshas accumulate karma from the eons of slaughter we're tasked with.  It eats away at our souls, corrupts us, or drives us mad.  We become the monsters we're meant to destroy.  Outsiders, companions, anyone who gets too close, will share and suffer that karma.  It is why I order you and Aether to leave, and it is why I keep everyone at a distance."

You watched him continue to carefully sort his thoughts out.  He's never talked so much without your prompting.  

"None of us have had, nor will have, a happy ending.  This is our fate.  And it will be your fate too, if you continue to stay at my side.  The karma I've accumulated will only grow in future years, and you won't be a stranger to it."

Your shoulders dropped.  Is he...Is he going to leave me completely? Is he going to push me away for good?

Xiao heard your worries, and he briefly met your eyes again.  "Could you still love a yaksha, while knowing this information?  While knowing your fate will be sealed, and you won't find peace?"

"Of course."

"This isn't a light decision," Xiao admonished and rotated his body slightly to face you.  "You cannot--"  Do humans not understand danger?

"Xiao."  The determination in your eyes made his next words stick to his throat.  "I've already thought about it long and hard.  I've seen your past.  I've felt some of your pain.  Even if this bond thing doesn't 'seal'--whatever that means--even if I am stuck with hearing those awful voices for the rest of my life, I will never be able to stop my feelings for you.  Even if you don't return my feelings.  I've come to accept all of it."

Could Xiao bring himself to admit his feelings if there was a high chance that fate would set its cruel sights on you?  You could say all this now, but you've only felt the karma for a month.  What happens in a year from now? A decade? A century?  Your life wouldn't be as short as a humans because of his blood...Could he find it in him to confess if you were driven mad and he, ridden with guilt from causing your downfall?  Sealing the bond wouldn't guarantee that the voices would leave you, and it definitely wouldn't make you immune to his karma.  Xiao had thought he had decided on confessing, but now that he saw that raw, naïve determination in your gaze, maybe it was better that he kept it to himself for your safety--

"Do you trust me, Xiao?"  His attention snapped back to you.  "You felt my love for you in Zapolyarny Palace, didn't you?  If you did, then you know my feelings are genuine..."

That's right...your feelings were so warm back then, and the way you had hugged him close...He felt his own version when he had heard your moonsong.  'How long can you continue protecting Liyue? When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone.  Zhongli was righ--Archons, forget it.  You had never lied to him, and he doubted you'd ever plan on doing so in the future.  You were still just as stubborn as all those years ago on your deathbed of bloody soil; that aspect of you never changed.  And if you were this stubborn, it wouldn't make sense for him to label your decision as a half-hearted, half-thought out answer.

Xiao examined you carefully for a silent minute, not quite listening to the words that flew out of your mouth.  He didn't know how much longer he could stand tall against the swarms of darkness that swirled in his heart; he liked to think he could do so for another millennia, but that could change with one wrong move, one wrong thought, or one misplacement in willpower.  But maybe as Zhongli said, he could find a new purpose, a new ray of light that could help him continue his duty if the day for evil to overwhelm him ever comes.

The yaksha couldn't quite find a place in the mortal realm, but he was curious on how it worked, how the humans were, what kind of customs they created.  His karma made it impossible to quell that curiosity, and equally as dangerous for mortals.  But he met you, that four year old girl that didn't do anything but provoke his curiosity and longing for kinship further.  And then he really got to know you, all those months ago--what made you tick much like the other humans, the way you smiled, how you had the same sense of humor as him, the aggressive and the kind sides of your personality that clashed together to form this perfect, messy example of how humans worked.

Maybe he found out where to start when it came to you mortals, and that starting line was with you.  You shone at the end of the tunnel, a beacon for safety and dare he call a symbol of peace that he could come home to.  Xiao's eyes never left you as you continued to ramble on.

"--Then, I suppose, I could love you."  The yaksha muttered the words like they tasted sour, but his eyes were soft when they landed on you.

"I--You--Huh?"  You had thought he was trying to pull away from you for good, but this? He was confessing?  Your oblivious mind wouldn't have guessed this would happen...So this is what Zhongli was inferring earlier!

"What?"  Xiao narrowed his eyes and looked away as if he were embarrassed.  "It's not that significant," he pouted.  "Humans are flustered too easily by the smallest matters."  Despite his crimson cheeks and beet-red ears, he found it difficult to fight back a smile when he saw the ridiculous look on your face.

"You..."  Faint lights shone down on your little moment, and you glanced up to find that the lanterns were being released.  "Wow, look!"  You rose to your feet and stared at the distant lanterns before remembering that you had one of your own.  Your gaze dropped to it, and an idea struck you.  "Xiao...would you like to do this one together?"  You picked it up and lit it with the match you had in your pocket.

"I still don't understand why humans discard their trash into the ocean," he muttered before standing as well.  He watched the small flame burn brighter as it sat in your hands.  "What's the point?"

"The lanterns represent our wishes and thanks to the adepti," you explained and gestured for him to take hold of the other side of the lantern.  He reluctantly did so, but curiosity overcame him and he patiently listened to you with a slight childlike wonder in his eyes.  "As for why we chose lanterns, I think it's just because they're pretty."

"Hmph."

"Do you have any wishes for the archons?  We're supposed to write them on the lantern," you pulled a small pen out from your back pocket and uncapped it, offering the other end to him.

"Adepti don't go by your mortal ideals," he scoffed.  

His clear distaste for your question drew a laugh from your lips.  "I figured there was no harm in asking again! Okay.  Even if you don't have a wish, let's release it, yeah? One, two, three..."  The two of you gently pushed the lantern into the air, where it slowly made its journey to join the rest of its companions that now floated all around you.  

"You didn't write your wish," he commented, his brows furrowing in confusion.  How dare you ask him to write a wish, yet you did no such thing.  The hypocrisy of humans!

"Why would I need to if it already came true?"  You gave him a smirk before facing the sky.  "They're so pretty," you marveled, nearly making yourself dizzy from staring straight up.  "Don't you think so?"

"Mm."  He agreed, but he was only looking at you.  It took you a few minutes before you could gather the courage to return his gaze, feeling his stare while you watched the lanterns sparkle like the stars.  Well, it was also when your neck got tired.

You returned your eyes to the yaksha only to find him staring hard at you with an unreadable expression.  "W-what?"

"You're serious about me, even if it ends up killing you?"  He still couldn't understand why...Wouldn't self-preservation be what everyone chooses when put in a perilous situation?  Is this human stupidity, or is there some type of logic behind your trust that he failed to grasp?

You blinked, facing him fully.  "One hundred percent."  I don't need to think twice about my answer, but he's still concerned about me?  "Xiao, do you trust me?"

He didn't answer and instead approached you after a few beats of silence until you almost breathed the same air.  He was visibly struggling with something, but as for what, you had no idea.  He allowed himself to slide a hand through your hair and play with the strands before it settled against the nape of your neck.  He pulled you closer until his lips grazed across your eyelids.  He ignored the shocked gasp that left your parted lips and let his brush across your other eyelid before they settled against the spot between your brows.

He then pulled away, his head resting against your forehead, and for a second you wondered if any of that was real until you managed to snap out of your daze.  "D-did you just...?  Xiao...?"

[mariniacipher]

Gone In Sparks And Light

My gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange - this was written for @genderqueer-turtle. I really hope you had a merry Christmas and that you will enjoy this gift! 

Summary:  Looking at an artefact he's stolen from the archaeology lab, Remus finds a way to travel back in time, to a place where he might belong- to the people who could be meant for him.

WC: 3,830

Ships: Remus/Virgil/Logan, ment. Roman/Janus 

Warnings: mentions of resurrecting dead animals 

ao3 

~

Remus leaned over the examining table and fiddled with his microscope to examine the shard of periwinkle glass. There had been runes carved into them, and the archaeology lab was being so possessive over it. Something about him destroying the delicate work. As if he’d ever be so careless with something so delightfully strange!  

He scoffed and let his scalpel run over the glass without leaving even the hint of a mark. “No, I wouldn’t,” he muttered, looking back through the lens of the microscope. He’d stolen it after hearing about the commotion they’d all made- he just had to take a look at it! 

Remus startled as he finally recognized the marks on the glass. Fiddled with the microscope’s lens. Examined the piece of glass again. Cursed. 

His scalpel traced over the last rune in a sequence of antiquated letters and numbers and signs that could’ve come from his own lab, if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had carved this had gone even farther in the convergence of spatial displacement with interplanar conjuring than he ever did. And he’d already revolutionized the field with his out of the box ideas. 

His hands started shaking where they still traced over a small mark in the glass. A small mistake had been made there that set the equation off, a single line missing to turn it into the very formula he’d dedicated his life to discovering after he got his doctorate. 

And now he was just one line away from finishing it, thanks to whoever it was that had carved the periwinkle glass. A laugh escaped him, hysterical and hopeful and disbelieving, shaking his body and- the noise of this scalpel scratching the glass was almost inaudible, but to Remus’ ears it sounded deafening. 

He’d perfected the formula, he realized a moment later. He’d perfected it! He’d finished his life’s work at 27, all thanks to that mysterious soul, that mysterious carver of periwinkle glass whose body must’ve left a trace of DNA on this glass. Who had to be replicable and revivable. They had to be! 

Remus was ready to take apart the glass and grind it into molecular pieces to enlarge and search through, looking for any trace of DNA he could give the necromancy department and bring them back to life, or get the spectral summoning folks on the case- anything! 

This person, this carver-of-periwinkle-glass, they were the only one who could be his match, in a field filled with industrious dimwits and lazy, narrow-minded geniuses. And this shard of glass could lead him to a person with whom he could share his lab. A person who was actually his match, who knew what they were doing just like he did. 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring the formula to himself, recognizing the inherent rhythm in it- a spell’s melody. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rocked back in his chair, almost hearing the symphony of magic meeting its capturing, of strings weeping and rejoicing. 

Without noticing, he raised his left hand in the air, as if conducting the magical energy with the scalpel he still held. The tight bracelet around his wrist started to glow, indicating magic to be near him. Remus didn’t notice that though, too focused on repeating the discovery- their shared discovery! After so many years of solitary work, he’d found a worthy partner, perhaps even a potential friend. No matter that time and space had tried to separate them.

He couldn’t imagine what their life had been like, what they had lived like- if they’d been just as lonely, just as severed from the world around them- if they’d wished for a companion just as much as he did. 

His wish, his desire, sent the magic innate to him outward, and the formula gave it a direction. They twisted together and converged to create a beautiful braid of light and sparks, green and dark blue and purple combining with silver thread to hold it all together. It circled in the air, being woven into a circular tapestry that flickered between aether and reality. The silver sparks reflected the light like mirrors, before showing- everything. 

Worlds and universes and planes he’d never imagine before and some he had, so different and bright Remus’ breath stopped as he saw it. 

But he kept repeating the formula, kept thinking of how its creator must’ve lived, and he saw how the silver mirrors showing the growing portal’s destination shifted, narrowing down their focus: First to only showing images of their plane, then to running back in time, then to finally showing him a small village from hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Remus could almost see himself there, could almost taste the air and feel the breeze and hear the rain that was pattering down from the sky. 

And just as his yearning reached its zenith, the silver sparks started to migrate into the centre of the circular tapestry, moulding and growing it. The portal turned into a single image of the small village, each raindrop glittering silver, framed by a braid of blue, green and purple that bled together at the edges. Remus stopped for a moment to admire it, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Then he took a running start and jumped through it. 

~ 

Virgil rightened the wool cape over their shoulders and fidgeted with the broad scarf they’d wrapped around their shoulders and head. They were still drenched to the bone, the rain not giving them any hint of reprieve. The wool weighed heavily, damp and disgusting against their skin. Why did the market have to be so far away? They’d left their village when dawn had still been streaking the night sky with pink and purple stripes, to find the parts that Logan claimed he needed. 

Now, hours later, they were weighed down with a heavy bag filled with scrap metal, it was almost dusk and they were more than ready to let their husband hang up the woollen layers they were wearing and detangle their hair to braid it out of their face with warm, calloused hands afterwards. Their tired muscles ached for Logan’s familiar touch, to kiss and hold-

Why was Roman outside?

The rain and the darkness would usually drive him inside, to work on his costumes or his lines, and besides that Roman had been glued to Janus’ side ever since they confessed. And the snake was nothing if not consistent in their distaste for anything that went against their hedonistic desires. Virgil would know, they loved to watch them pout as they were dragged out of their comfort zone by Roman, pretending not to enjoy it, just like Roman pretended to dislike it when Janus forced him to take a break. If it didn’t devolve into them making out half the time, they would’ve even called the couple cute.  

But Roman seemed to be alone out here, and in what had to be a new costume- it was a stark white robe that shone against the drab houses the storm had turned their village into. It went down to their shins, with a similar white shirt underneath, and Virgil cursed under his breath. Light fabric was expensive, and if his friend had gotten in over his head for his creative vision again- 

“Hey, whatcha watchin’ for, hot stuff? You wanna get a piece of this?” The person- not Roman, not at all Roman- grinned, so wide it looked almost painful, shaking his hips in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive but just let Virgil worry about his thin figure. There was a weird tension in his frame that Virgil couldn’t name. 

They frowned, hauling their bag higher up their arm to cross them before their chest. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you passing through?”  The white robe wasn’t protecting him from the rain at all and Virgil hoped he had friends in town to take him in. 

But the man shook his head. “Yeah, you could say that…,” he paused, before perking up with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you happen to know any scientists?”  

Virgil mouthed the strange word to himself before shaking their head. “No, I’ve never heard of that- what language even is that? I never… you’re not part of a cult, right?” They changed their grip around their bag again, this time to have a sharp piece of metal in arm’s reach. 

“No! I just- wait, let me think how you’d call it… maybe I should have studied history a bit, before- well, too late now.” The stranger hummed to himself. “I’m looking for a person who’s researching magic! Trying to understand and tame it, all that!” 

Virgil sighed. Of course, the maybe-cultist would look for someone of Logan’s profession; they ignored the curiosity the stranger had piqued within themself. “Then come along.” They led the way up their village’s main street and discarded the potential weapon in their bag. “My husband and I’s house is on the edge of town, and I don’t want you to freeze to death because the others think you’re possessed or something.” 

The stranger followed him, an obvious bounce in his step. “Does that happen often? I heard about possession, but never managed to get it right! I called on so many serial killers, you wouldn’t believe- the whole ritual is so disgusting, imagine how it’d look if it actually worked!” The smile on his face was positively gleeful. “Everything I read sounds positively horrid, absolutely gruesome and-” Virgil bit back a grin at the other’s open excitement. It’d been a while since they’d let themself be so excited about the more macabre side of magic. 

“Oh, you should’ve seen the reception at our wedding. I had gotten a bunch of emus and charmed them to come alive again, to carry some drinks. You should’ve seen the faces of the guests, man, it was great. And they were way better at serving the drinks than the chickens Logan wanted-” Virgil cleared their throat, suddenly growing aware of what they’d said. “Just so you know,” they added, grumbling, shoulders hitching up. 

Remus’ grin didn’t soften, but they perked up, finding the other to mirror his own interest in the dirty parts of magic and science. He leaned forward as he caught up to them with an expectant smile. “I do know now,” they said, “but you didn’t mention what spell you used at all! How am I supposed to reanimate my own flock of emus? Let alone my own flock of geese!” The scientist cackled at the idea of unleashing a flock of geese onto the archaeology department. It would be glorious and he had to get back to the present to do it at least once!

Virgil snorted, imagining their own friends’ reaction if they had to cope with a pack of wild geese. “I think you’d be run out of town for that one,” they muttered, but they were unable to hide their smile, small as it might’ve been. 

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened before! Do you know I’ve been banned from a different mall on each of my birthdays since I turned 13?” Remus bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he were a supervillain about to explain his devious plan, just to do something with them. 

“I’m Remus,” he added, a moment later, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve no idea what a mall is.” 

Virgil shook their head, but they were smiling. “Nah, but like, they can’t be that good, if they’d throw you out.” 

Remus froze, turning distinctly pink. “Okay. If you say so.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know what flirting was; in the monster romance books he secretly read there was a lot of flirting! He just. Hadn’t really ever been on the receiving end of it. But… looking at the stranger and their smile, their eyes shimmering with mirth, he’d really like to learn. 

Virgil cleared their throat, blushing too. The darkness thankfully did its best to hide it. “I’m Virgil,” they said and hoped they could convince Remus to stay a while. “And my husband’s name is Logan- you’ll love him, he’s great. As long as he’s not forcing me into a storm for his experiments, at least.” They chuckled, more fond than bitter. 

Remus nodded eagerly at the reminder of what had brought him here. “You mind telling me about those?” He leaned forward, “I’d love to hear about it.” 

Virgil laughed, “don’t tell me you’re another one of those logicians- I’ve already got enough with Logan and his attempts to anger the spirits.” 

Remus sputtered. “I don’t want to anger them! Just… get to the bottom of them. Are you honestly telling me that you’re happy with just accepting the ways they work? Just like that?” 

“No, I just- c’mon, we’re almost home, talk to Logan about your attempt to get struck by lightning.” But their smile belied the disinterest of Virgil’s words. Just what they needed, really, another person to anger the ones above and below. 

The two of them had arrived at the top of the hill the village stood on and could look below: the cliff coast, steep and jagged, the grey sea crashing against it, with a small cottage standing at its edge. The thatched roof was dark with rain and the garden around it seemed to be filled with herbs and flowers, some of which Remus had only seen in archaeological texts. 

The scientist ran forward as he spotted those, gasping as he cradled the bloom of a dark blue lily that had supposedly been used to dye clothes with its blooms and season potions with the dried leaves. Remus was almost cackling with glee as he imagined what the people at the archaeological department would say if they heard about missing out on this. 

He turned around from where he’d crouched down on the ground to face Virgil, not paying attention to the house. “What’re these?” 

“My mother always called them gunny’s blossoms,” came the reply from behind him, and Remus could see Virgil roll their eyes before turning around and standing up to face the other man- Virgil’s husband, most likely. 

The man was short- shorter than Remus and definitely shorter than his spouse, wearing a too-big woollen coat that probably belonged to Virgil, under which Remus could spot embroidered robes. He could’ve sworn he recognized some of them from either his textbooks or the designs still so popular in churches and temples, but they were covered up by the man’s crossed arms. “And what should I call you?” 

“Remus!” he introduced himself with a bow, exaggerated and clumsy, but he carried it with confidence. “I cannot say how happy I am to meet you- is it right that you are working with making magic make sense? Your spouse mentioned, but- I’ve got to be sure.” 

Logan looked over at Virgil, face creased with confusion. His spouse merely shrugged. “I am working on capturing the powers that be into clear, replicable form, yes. Are you in the field as well?” 

Remus laughed at the question. “In the field, yes- pioneered a good deal, back in-'' he looked around himself as if fearing to be struck by lightning when speaking his breaking of the laws of time and space aloud. “Can I come in? I’d love to talk to you- you both.” He rocked back and forth on his heels; this was the furthest he’d come in making new frien- acquaintances, right now, he reminded himself, even though it hurt- and he was weirdly jittery. Nerves firing and pores excreting sweat. He would’ve been delighted at the grossness had it been any other time. 

But Logan nodded, his curiosity seeming piqued as he exchanged a look with his spouse. There was a new light in his eyes and even though this was the first time Remus saw it, he wanted to keep it there for as long as possible. Judging by the softness that gentled Virgil’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said, turning back to the door. “You’re free to pick some gunny’s blossoms if you’d like. We have more than enough.” 

Remus made a high-pitched noise at the back of his throat, grabbing a handful of them and holding them to his nose. It coloured his face blue and Virgil snorted, not as derisive as they’d wanted to. 

“It tingles!” Remus rubbed at the pollen and colour on his face. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the rash you’re about to get,” Virgil smiled, as though they weren’t already reaching for one of the vials attached to their belt. “Lo, do you-” 

“Yes.” Logan already stood next to them with a rag, wetting it with the tincture Virgil had brewed for their husband less than a week before. They both led Remus inside with ease and the scientist would’ve looked around himself if he hadn’t been so focused on the couple now sitting him down on a chair that had to be freed of fabric- “Virgil, you said you’d clear another chair- and what if someone sat here? The magic you embroidered into this would be completely corrupted!” 

“Well, you didn’t notice until now, did you?” Virgil shook their head, “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch either. Besides, my magic isn’t so fragile-” 

“-It is nonetheless worthy of protection!”  

Virgil grumbled in reply to that, but Remus could swear there was a redness to their cheeks that couldn’t be attributed to the cold outside. They crossed the room, folding the piece of fabric as they went. 

Remus tried to catch a look at what was painted onto it- were those runes pre-roman?- but Logan stepped into his line of sight, holding the same rag as before, but now it was covered with some kind of liquid. It was kind of sizzling the wool but didn’t seem to burn it. 

“Do not worry, Virgil’s version is only so bubbly because it is more fitted to human skin- I’d know, I’ve got it on me at least twice a week.” Logan smiled, fond and soft and so close. Remus watched him, for the first time in his life completely stunned, as the other man gently wiped off the colour from the flowers. He didn’t even notice how his grip on those still in his hands slackened until a few hit the floor. But the wood was already so stained- from potion accidents, runic accidents and cooking gone wrong- that it didn’t make a real difference. 

“You, ah-” Remus caught his breath, looking Logan straight in the eyes. They were light brown- a mundane colour, but, for the first time, it reminded Remus of amber, of acorns in the summer, of wilderness in a seemingly calm form. But only seemingly, as the house around him proved. “What’re you working on?” 

Logan’s smile grew at that, his eyes shining. “Oh, it’s fascinating- I’m trying my hand at abstraction! You might’ve heard of some magicians in the cities doing it, and I’ll admit their research gave me the base idea, but, looking at their works I’d noticed how contained they all were by only using the written word-” 

“-as they should,” Virgil interrupted, but it bore no heat and only caused Logan to continue, louder and decidedly looking away from his spouse. 

“BUT by applying some runes and numbers to it I started to get much further ahead- I’m just trying some thought experiments now.” 

Remus nodded. “Yes! Are you by any chance working on travelling spells? Because I found some, in-” he rocked back and forth in his chair, fiddling with the flowers’ stems in his hands- “some glass with inscriptions of it, and it led me here when I wished for its creator- I’m from the future, y’see, and I,” he smiled, looking around the house again. Looking at the work desk covered in glass and gems and fragile tools, the corner covered in heaps of fabrics, and thread and needles alongside paints and brushes. Looking at an easel leaning against the construction of glass and metal that looked like a telescope, the tapestries hanging from some walls with painted and embroidered runes, words and old spells. He could spy into another room that was filled with vials and kettles, a chemist’s lab from a long time ago, and he wondered if Virgil’s paints were magic in themselves. 

“You?” Logan asked as Remus was captured by the house around him, curious in a gentle way. Remus melted at it, leaning into the hand still cradling his head, despite the blue from the flowers already being gone. 

“I’m from the future,” he replied, and something crashed in the background as Virgil turned around quicker than light. 

“You’re what?” Their eyes were wide with wonder and they stalked over to them as fast as their legs would take them. 

“You have to tell us everything- you said you were working on abstracting magic too?” Logan started flapping his hands as he thought, and the obvious stim made Remus rock again, elated to find the other man was like him. “Oh, would you work alongside me? I’ve been simply stuck at trying to find a way to define a natural element and-” 

“-oh, the Gregorian Dilemma? I solved that just a few weeks ago, but you, you figured out how to travel through time and space- you have to explain your process!”

“How do you- I was just about to finish my fine-tuned carving of it-” 

Remus nodded- “on periwinkle glass?” 

“Yes, how did you-” 

“- I found it! It’s what led me here in the first place.” 

Logan laughed, stunned and delighted and Remus joined him easily. 

Virgil snorted fondly at the display. “But, Lo, you didn’t hear the most important thing yet- he never summoned a thing- they lost it, apparently, in the future. I have to show you how we do it, you would love it-” 

“-Yes!” Logan exclaimed. “And you’d get to use-” 

“- The new tapestry of luminous elation? I’d thought so too-” 

“- “what, like the spirit,” Remus interrupted, and the spouses easily slid into explaining and inviting, just as Remus started explaining and accepting. The three of them didn’t even notice how the time went by until the food Logan had prepared before started boiling over, and they all hurried to the kitchen to clean up the mess and Remus ate slightly-burnt stew with them like it was normal, the three of them making space on the dinner table. 

Remus put away the periwinkle glass, enlarged thanks to the cloth it’d been placed on, the formula he’d see through a microscope just hours before now easily legible. It was a magic he had never heard of before, and as he asked Virgil explained, interrupted by additions by Logan and Remus alike but always listened to. 

And Remus found himself fitting right in. 

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy 14 Writing Challenge Day Ten: “The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life.”

Day Nine - Masterpost - Day Eleven

“I’m thinking you should have a rest.”

The Crystal Exarch blinked up from his work. His room, covered as it already was in books and papers, was in even more disarray then usual. This was due to him actively researching how to transport the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (and himself, if luck would have him) back into the Source. There was only so much time before their bodies would no longer be able to support the lack of aether that their souls would give them, so he absolutely needed to keep working.

That didn’t seem to be the opinion of Beq Lugg, the brilliant Nu Mou expert on souls. They prodded at the flesh of the Exarch’s non-crystalized arm until he flinched away from the desk he had been working on. “You have been staring at the same several pages for an age. You should rest if you’re stuck.” 

“Begging your pardon, Beq Lugg, but there’s much to do and no way of knowing exactly how much time we have to do it,” The Exarch protested. “My merging with the Crystal Tower has given me the boon of a body that has no need for rest. I can keep at the work.” He flinched again with a startled “Ow!” when the Nu Mou prodded even harder at his arm. 

“I didn’t mean a physical rest but a mental one you young fool.” They snorted. He was too astonished at being called “young” to interrupt. “You have poured blood, sweat and tears into saving the lives of your friends in the most literal of senses. Time is of the essence, but the only result of your inner workings slipping from their proper settings will be mistakes you can ill afford. Go and see to your Crystarium and allow your mind to work at the problem from a different angle.”

Having recovered, the Exarch implored, “But what about your end, Beq Lugg? You have been working for nearly as long with just as little rest!”

They snorted again, this time with something that sounded like amusement. “You need not worry about myself. I can handle the research and testing for the time it will take you to walk your city. Go.” 

“But--” Feeling more and more like a child, his plea fell on deliberately deaf ears.

“Keeper of this tower you may be, but I will not allow you to assist me further unless and until you have been away for at least a half hour.” Beq Lugg made a gesture and one of their familiars was summoned to the room. It hugged itself around the Exarch’s torso and bodily carried him to the main entrance to the tower where it let him go suddenly. 

He was already out the door and several steps down in his shock when he turned back. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was about to do, but the magic seal on the inner side of the door was proof enough that Beq Lugg was as good as their word. In the space of a thought, the Exarch could use the power at his command to break the seal and enter the tower regardless of the orders given to him.

Except, something stopped him. A nudge of a memory so old that it had almost completely faded from his mind. A sense of...familiarity about the situation came to him. Even though he had never once in the hundred years of being the tower’s master been locked out of it.

With a heavy sigh and a quick word to the Crystarium guard who saw to those who entered and left the tower, the Exarch stepped the rest of the way down the stairs. If he was being told to have a break, he might as well spend it seeing how the city fared. Much like he did in the hundred years past, he stood for a moment on the cobblestones and stared around at the courtyard. His ears twitched from their place on top of his head, following the sounds of his people as he tried to gauge the mood. 

Many were in small groups, scattered about and whispering of the visions recently forced upon them by Elidibus. The people affected wouldn’t describe the phenomenon with those words, seeing as they now were declaring themselves Warriors of Light and starting journeys similar to that of the heroes of old. The ones that sacrificed their very lives to prevent the Flood of Light from engulfing the entirety of the First. One of whom’s body was now possessed by Elidibus in some scheme that involved the creation of new heroes. 

The Exarch sighed inwardly. Half a wonder that Beq Lugg demanded he take a mental break. There was far too much for a single mind to worry itself with on top of the complex workings it would take to transport five souls (and his own) back to the Source unscathed. A walk was just what he needed. 

He decided to circle the city in a somewhat widdershins fashion. First he saw to the Spagyrics, listening to the concerns about supplies and wishing a full and quick recovery to those still being treated. Then he went past the Ballistics upstairs to the Amaro Launch to check in on incoming and outbound flights. As he journeyed through the city, passing through or by places such as the Crystalline Mean, the Cabinet of Curiosity and the Rookery, the Exarch allowed himself to spare a word or two to anyone that wished it of him. Raised as they were to trust in him and not question, none of the people had a word to say about his newly unhooded self nor of his race, known in this world as Mystel. All they cared about was his well being and, by extension, that of his friends.

“Seems they keep scattering off to find things these days!” Darlfort laughed. His tavern was one of the last stops on the Exarch’s patrol around the Crystarium. It was well past the half hour away from work that Beq Lugg had demanded of him, but he indulged in conversation in case there was to be any room for doubt in the Nu Mou’s mind. Not that he minded chatting with his people in the first place, of course. “Barely any time to come for a drink, much less a chat!”

The Exarch smiled, perfectly picturing the Scions in miniature while running willy nilly around the city. “Indeed. I feel I must apologize for your lack of patronage, as some of what they have been doing has been on my behalf.”

“Pah, well worth the lack of coin then.” Darlfort grinned as he cleaned a glass. “Although...come to think of it I saw the Warriors of Darkness heading towards the Pendants not so long before you came strolling up to my bar, Exarch.”

He thought back to what Lara and Roger were supposed to be doing in their quest to return the Scions back to the Source. He hadn’t heard that they had completed their mission yet. It was odd that the two of them had returned to the Crystarium so early and with nary a word. He felt his ears flatten a little with concern. “Strange. You’re the first to inform me of their arrival. I’ll have to visit them before I return to the tower.”

Darlfort raised a hand in farewell. “Be seeing you, then.” 

“And I, you.” The Exarch nodded before taking his leave. 

He’d been expecting to need to go to the apartment that the Warriors of Darkness shared. Instead, he discovered Roger laying on his back in one of the patches of grass just outside of the building. He was staring up at (or perhaps through) the glass ceiling that once helped shield the more residential part of the city from the harshness of the Light that pervaded the world until very recently. The weather had been kind, giving way for a clear blue sky with dottings of friendly white clouds. Through the tinted glass, one could even pick out shapes in those clouds. From the way he was lazily using an extended pointer finger to draw in the air, that appeared to be what Roger was doing.

“Well met, Roger!” The Exarch called out as he approached the young man. “How goes the sky watching?” 

Roger blinked several times before sitting up and looking in the Exarch’s direction. It took him a moment or two longer to process the question. “Oh! It’s fine. Sky looks...clear, here.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Just don’t ask me about other parts of Norvrandt. I dunno how the watchers manage to know…”

“‘Tis a trade secret I also have yet to glean.” The Exarch stopped walking when he came within comfortable hearing range, but did not make to stand or sit next to Roger. He refused to do so unless invited, particularly after...well, the reveal of his true identity.

“Oof, then I guess it’s gonna have to stay a mystery.” 

The two lapsed into silence. Despite being the one who was standing, the Exarch felt as if he were small under the scrutinizing gaze of one of the Warriors of Darkness. Or, well, Light as he once knew them. He briefly wondered if the two would adopt the new moniker on the Source when the thought was broken by a sigh from Roger. 

“You’re allowed to sit down next to me, G’raha. We’re still friends, you know.”

The Exarch’s ears perked up at the use of his true name. Even after having it known to the Scions, the use of it, particularly by either Lara or Roger had yet to fade in significance. That he was being reassured of friendship in the same statement also contributed to his upward mood shift. He took the invitation and sat himself down so that he was looking directly at Roger.

“I’m...glad to hear it. You have my thanks and yet another apology for my deception.” There would never be enough apologies for the well intentioned but failed plan of his to save his friends. Nor would there be enough apologies for the series of events that took place because of his actions. It was the best he could do while working on his actual apology gift of sending the Scions back to the Source. 

Roger rolled his eyes, which surprised the Exarch. “You really don’t need to keep apologizing. Sure I wish you would’ve told us who you were earlier, and it’s not like Lara and I were thrilled about finding that out on top of...everything else that was going on at the time…” He gained a faraway look as he trailed off.

Responding to his emotions far faster than his face ever did (one of the main reasons why the hood he wore over most of his face was necessary to his initial plan), the Exarch’s ears flattened against his head in shame. He also looked away from the younger man’s gaze.

Roger shook himself out of his state and continued, “Your plan was stupidly suicidal for how long you had to refine it, but you promised to do everything you can to live from now on and we both forgave you already.” He paused a moment before grinning awkwardly and scratching at the side of his face. “It’d be kinda stupid if we held a grudge about that anyway. Lara and I do a ton of stupidly suicidal things. Some of them we even plan out in advance.” He gave his final sentence a dramatic gravitas and the Exarch could feel himself smiling a half second after his ears had returned to their more neutral state.

“A cautionary tale against such plans indeed. I’ll endeavor to keep it to heart.” He looked around the lawn before settling his gaze back on Roger. “Speaking of your sister, where is she? I’d heard that you both had returned to the Crystarium but I only see you.”

The good cheer that Roger had been showing deflated at the question. “Lara’s...we did the mission and usually violence against things trying to kill us helps her feel better, but she’s still very upset about the Elidibus thing. She needed some time to herself, so I let her have the room for a bit.”

The Exarch nodded. “She and Ardbert were quite close, from what you’ve said. I can’t imagine what she must be going through right now.” 

Roger put a hand to his chest as he nodded in kind. “Close is a way of describing it, yeah. She really wants to tear Elidibus apart for just that. I’m...” He hesitated. 

“Conflicted?” The Exarch filled in.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m angry too. Just because I didn’t ever get to see or hear him doesn’t mean I didn’t get to know him so it hurt when we figured out it wasn’t really Ardbert. But. I’m also kind of...sad for Elidibus? Like, I feel like I might do something big and mean to the people that killed all of my friends, y’know?” 

The two were quiet for a moment.

“I think I do understand.” The Exarch said after a moment. “You’re trying to empathize with him.”

Roger shrugged and looked away. “I guess? It sounds stupid, though. We haven’t gotten anyone on the Ascians’ side to listen to us once.”

In the melancholy lull that was left by the Warrior of Darkness, the Exarch couldn’t help but chuff. “Another addition to your list of bad plans, I see.” 

The younger man blinked at him for a moment before snorting. “Yeah, it is!”

The two chuckled together until the laughter died down again. Instead of letting silence take over, the Exarch took initiative to say, “I actually had a couple of motives other than a need to apologise again.”

“Oh?”

“I wished to thank you and Lara for everything you’ve done.” The Exarch gave a gentle smile to Roger. “I’ve truly been blessed since the day I met you two.”

“What, even after everything??” Roger got to his knees in order to lean closer to the Exarch. “Doga and Unei, the long sleep, the time travel, the sin eaters, Emet-Selch...really?”

“Yes, really.” The Exarch put his living hand on Roger’s shoulder, as much reassurance for his friend as it was for himself. “While I have indeed made many mistakes in the process, I am still quite glad that I was able to save you and Lara both. I was able to discover my destiny, and in turn was able to save you. Whatever the future holds for any of us on the Source, I will be thrilled to join you two in what’s to come.”

Roger’s expression was far more serious than it normally was when he put his own hand on the Exarch’s shoulder. “You better make that a promise. You will live to see the Source again, G’raha Tia, and you will go on adventures with us.” 

Tears started to form in the corners of G’raha Tia’s eyes as he fiercely nodded. “This I swear by all that I am.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it.” Roger’s expression then softened a little. “What was the other motive for coming here?”

“Oh, er,” He sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes with the palm of his living hand. “Beq Lugg insisted I leave the tower for a mental break, so I took a walk around the Crystarium.”

There was barely a second’s pause before Roger snorted into a laugh.

“I know, it’s ridiculous…” 

“Not just that!” The hand that had been on G’raha’s shoulder came to Roger’s mouth, as if to try to contain the mirth spilling out of it. “They made you take a break like Rammbroes did when you hit that wall in your research!”

The familiar feeling from earlier in the day came back in full force as the memory unfolded before him. He’d almost forgotten that moment in his first adventure with Lara and Roger. “And...Lara made candies for the camp, to keep up our spirits. Honey drops she called them, or something similar.”

“Yeah, that’s it! I should ask if she can make more sometime, or teach me how.”

With that memory also came a memory of what had happened when Roger had consumed too many of the candies. “You’d never sleep again if she taught you.”

“It would be worth it! Honey’s the best!” 

“While I don’t deny that, too many candies will…”

The two had chatted a little longer before G’raha finally made his way back towards the tower. He felt more invigorated than he had been in ages. It was a moment that he planned to cherish forever. A moment that would have been denied to him had he gone through with his initial plan. Bolstered by the idea of fostering more moments like the one he just experienced, he stepped into the Crystal Tower with his head held high.

An idea had finally started to take root in his mind. With any luck, it would be the key to everything.

[inviouswriting]

Those who bargain.

Kivera centered. Got inspiration for something, so angst applies and warnings that goes into this field.

Mentions of  - @candideangel​ ‘s Angelique and her ship. @snow-covered-moon​ for the polyship.

She is use to the role, she is use to the odd stares and whispers. She had taken over the role from her successor when the territory of magic concerned bringing life back, blood magic was something Kivera usually kills at the source for. She had traveled a bit with the offender to her, and learned another side to G’raha Tia. 

The former exarch was weary of her, knowing what she is. He is surprised at how well she hides herself among the living. They were left alone, to stray behind after Palgth’an. G’raha was wondering just why she lingered when her presence was needed back at the Scion’s faster.

“They can wait. Not like they can start without their “warrior of light.” What’s on your mind.” They walked among the dying, occasionally he’d see her grab the air in front of her and pull. Those that were struggling would cease.

“What do you do if someone wishes to save them.” Kivera looks at him, then back to in front of her. Her vision different. She sees tethers that are breaking. She sees many trying to crawl through the aether itself. What he can’t see, or those that are not a servant of death.

“I can’t answer that. It’s a matter of my world.” She answers clipped, there was no need to answer a pointless question to her. It was always hard to make the living understand the laws of the underworld.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” G’raha Tia sees her stop and look at him, she had tugged another spirit free.

“It’s tireless and unending. Of course I get tired of seeing the same thing. Yet, I know the alternative is worse. I’ve seen the worse of it. To be trapped in a body that can’t die because of the selfishness of the living.. is more heartbreaking than letting them die.” G’raha focuses on her hand that tugs another thread, a touch of flame from her palm burns and he sees the sever wisp off.

They soon approach a scene Kivera hates the most. A couple, a woman crouched over another. Her eyes quickly looking over him and she narrows her eyes at the dagger in his back. She notes him bleeding out, and it would end soon. Equal was a head injury, one Kivera knows has caused permanent damage.

The woman looking up and sees Kivera standing there. She senses her intent and quickly covers over her fallen one more.

“Please don’t.. he’s all I have left. He can be saved.” Kivera hears the pleas, and G’raha was about to step forward to offer his healing magic when Kivera glares over her shoulder at him. He understood immediately that this was not something he could save.

Kivera sighs as she approaches and kneels down in front of both, a hand going to the top of the woman’s head an auri couple. Kivera understood the pain well, she saw it in Shuri with Ardbert. 

“He could be saved, but he won’t be the same. He will just be a shell of himself. These wounds will leave him paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak, and in constant pain. I’ve seen them, the soul itself would be miserable stuck in a body like this. I’ve seen auri men, they’re very proud. This is cruel to keep him like that.” Kivera explains it down in a gentle tone, to get her to understand.

“There are white mages who can help, can’t they?”

“Not with something like this. Their magic is only limited to certain points. They can heal certain injuries, and some are blessed with enough power to raise someone who freshly fell in death. But on bodies where the damage done is on their spine and brain. They can’t heal that. Besides... he’s already lost too much.” G’raha stands back more, witnessing the rumored hardened being of death be soft and understanding. Talking someone down from holding onto someone who is beyond saving by their magic and means. He thinks back to his crystal self still in The First, how death would be a blessing than standing as a living statue for endless time.

Kivera is right. It is torture to someone who has the option but can’t voice it. He wrings his hands together and turns to go attend to others that he can save. Letting the reaper do her part. He can save lives, she is tasked with taking them. He stays within earshot listening to her convince the woman to let go. Kivera relays her own stories, sharing Shuri’s heartbreak as a way to convey that feeling. Sharing her own, the first time he hears of the name Damien. 

G’raha encounters Estinien overlooking the woman, leaning against a wall. 

“You don’t stop her at all do you?” 

“I have no reason to. This is her nature. She’s being merciful today. She’s usually alot colder than this. I wonder if that is because of Shuri and Misija.” Estinien muses aloud leaving G’raha to wonder about the relationship they share. 

“I’ve only heard stories about her. How she was Amaurot’s desctruction along with the doom beasts. How she doesn’t blink if she is told to kill, or feel remorse for her actions. Yet here she is giving solace to someone she barely knows.”

“People will gossip about those that don’t understand. Then they fear and hate what they can’t understand. She’s meant to be feared, she commands respect in the world she comes from. Her hands are stained with countless and they’ll continue to be stained.” Estinien sees Kivera almost bowled over by the woman after she took the life of her lover. Letting the auri woman cry into her stomach. Kivera rests a hand on her head and lets her mourn.

“You said she is normally colder than this, what made that change?” Estinien thinks it over, he casts his gaze across a different direction seeing Shuri. She was busy helping bandage an amalj’aa’s arm. They had stayed behind to do work others wouldn’t do. Too caught up in themselves to really help the casualties of wars.

“I am still figuring that one out. Mystery that one is. There are still things I don’t know about Kivera, and things I will never know with the way she is. She can’t tell us the matters of the underworld. Forbidden by them. If she can’t tell us, she won’t tell you.” Kivera was let up when another amalj’aa came to collect the fallen man and the auran woman follows to learn their methods of mourning.

Kivera sees Shuri approach her and extends a hand to help her up. She takes it, and Estinien sees them both rub face to face. Kivera breaks and hugs Shuri tight to herself. He has a knowing smile on his face as the reaper seeks her own solace in Shuri’s arms. 

G’raha watches in awe over this. He feels bad for his earlier questions, seeing her breakdown after a hard death.

“Have your answer?” Estinien watches G’raha wring his hands again. 

“This gets to her too.” 

“Of course it does. She was once human too after all.” This interests G’raha but Estinien walks away from him, and Angelique approaches to collect him for he is needed elsewhere with his ability to heal.

Estinien looks at the two after Kivera’s calmed, he sees a tinge of blue among the green of her eyes. 

“Confide in us at home? I think you would feel better in private than in front of others.” Kivera too is a proud being. Her vice is her pride, Estinien rarely sees her broken down. Save for the time she couldn’t help Shuri in her catatonic state, he didn’t think wrong of her for soul searching. Yet the day she came back after managing to be pregnant was a joyful shock everyone needed.

He had gotten the secret out of her of how it happened. Shuri knows who, another love she married in a different world. He wants to meet this man, but he wouldn’t press her for how to unless she offers it.

“I’ll like that.” Kivera gives a genuine simpered smile, Shuri rests her head on top of Kivera’s.

“Let’s go then. The field doesn’t need us any longer.” He gives a stare to Kivera. She agrees to let the remainder of the souls end on their own without her assistance now. Estinien collects both women to head back to their home. Before they head back they sit in quiet at the edge of the beach front. Till they are joined by their many mutual lovers. Misija still learning how to accept their relationship, Divinity accepting her role as a stay at home mother type. If she had lent her power on the battlefield alot more could have been saved. 

Yet the exchange and balance was simple. Where Divinity is needed she goes while Kivera stays behind, and vice versa.

Kivera rests her head on Shuri’s lap after sprawling herself across Estinien, Divinity, and Misija. Kivera is in thought about something, and closes her eyes when two hands run through her hair undoing the braids to leave her hair sleek against her back.

“What are you thinking of?” Shuri breaks the silence, Ysayle climbing onto her from behind.

“Would any of you think me different of I wander off to maybe have another or three?” The hands on her hair pause, and Shuri knows what she is referring to.

“Why would you think, we’d think of you different? Isn’t it children you sought to have for a long time, and you have a means to? We’ll be supportive and waiting for your return.” Estinien shakes his head at the idea, but is intruiged of what future children from the reaper might look like. The daughter she bore is already stunning.

“As long as you come back, mayhap you bring your lover here to us so we can finally see the one who managed it?” Kivera buries her face into Shuri’s stomach in embarrassment.

Ysayle sees this as an opportunity to climb on her head and sit on it to nuzzle her mother better. Kivera accepts her fate to be a seat.

“Yes, even I’d like to meet this one.” Misija comments, her hands along Kivera’s back. Divinity laughs as Kivera becomes a seat to each child.

“I’ll ask him if he wants to make that trip here.” Kivera agrees to let them meet her lover.

“For now though you’re ours.”

“Agreed.”

[karoiseka]

#15 Ache

((Dialogue in the first part is snagged directly for the most part from the game, but the rest tis mine own.  Pretty much just a re-hash of emotions and extra tid-bits of lore of what Karo was doing with all of this.  This got a little more away from me that I thought, but I’m happy with it. ^_^  Obviously, MAJOR 5.3 spoilers!!!))

“I concede, I may have over-exerted myself,” G’raha gasped a little from the Tower’s floor where he had fallen after defeating Elidibus.  Karo’s heart was racing--not only from the battle she had just finished, the adrenaline singing in her veins, but from the final goodbye of her--well, whatever Elidibus was to her now.  Now, the one that held her heart was transforming before her very eyes into a part of the very Tower that was so instrumental to them both.

“Steady now, and listen.  I told you before that I had a plan, and that when all was said and done, I would ask a favor of you.”  The Bard maneuvered herself beside him, sitting him up and holding his now both crystal hands in her own that desperately were clutching the spirit vessel.  “We have averted the Eight Umbral Calamity.  Found a way for everyone to return to the Source, and… last but not least, we have secured the future of all the people of Norvrandt.  We have won, my love.”  He was squeezing her hands gently, eyes shining, even when gasping for breath as she could watch the crystal creeping over his body slowly.  He reached up to run his fingers gently down her cheek, cupping her face and leaning against her forehead.

“So I hope you’ll forgive me this moment of selfishness.  And… while I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged…” Karo snorted and cut him off with a kiss before letting him continue.  He smiled against her lips and continued on, “Promise me you’ll take me on your next adventure.  A journey.  Together.  That’s all I ask.”  Karo’s voice caught in her throat as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“Raha--” her voice cracked as she took a deep breath.  “Of course--you know that’s all I’ve wanted as well,”  nuzzling his ears he sighed contentedly as she continued to try and hold back all the emotion she was feeling.

“If I were to tell you that this isn’t the end--that we will meet again--would you believe me?”  His voice was soft, but insistent and confident that he spoke true despite what was in front of their eyes.

“I have to--” whispered almost too soft for him to hear, she nevertheless looked him in the eyes and nodded her agreement.

“Thank you.”  He nodded once as well and released his hold of his shining star to pull his hood up one last time--though thankfully not hiding his face away from her.  She scowled at the look, but stepped back to let him get to his feet, somehow knowing this was something he needed to do for himself.  His spirit vessel, the brilliant red portion already glowing clutched in her hand, she watched and listened as he found a spot to stand.  He knew this was it as the crystal crept up even further along him--robe and all.

“My love.  With you, my mind and memories shall travel to the ends of the world and beyond.  But in this place shall my body stand immovable.  May it serve as an undying promise, not only to those who looked to me for leadership, but to any soul who has known despair, that hope is everlasting.”   G’raha Tia planted his staff firmly, Xande’s throne towering behind him.  One last time, Karo threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, cupping the back of his head as they shared what they knew was one last moment here on the First.  Stepping back finally she took a deep breath and held out the spirit vessel.  It was time.  As she looked down it started to glow, burning from the inside with an intense light and Aether she could practically feel.  Sapphire eyes raced up to meet his ruby--now glossy as the husk smiled blankly as the crystal finally overtook him.

Her own feet planted barely two fulms from his own, she curled her entire upper body around the warm spirit vessel, holding it to her heart.  It pulsed warmly against her as she took gulping breaths, trying to come to terms at least enough to step away.  Not much longer, she could hear the frantic footfalls of her found family and shouts of her and G’raha’s names echoing from the doorway to the tower.  The scions skidded to a stop behind her as they saw the Crystal Exarch--now the truest description of his name with the Warrior of Light and Darkness still at vigil in front of him.  Thancred was the first of the Scions to let go of his shock, and went to Karoiseka, wrapping himself around her from behind.  He could finally see the spirit vessel glowing in her grasp from his vantage and a deep sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“We’ve got you kitten--and you’ve got him.”  Karo finally spun around and let her tears fall as she let Thancred hold her up as she sobbed into his jacket.  Her heart ached, but she had to keep hope--that hope that he gave her that she cradled so carefully.

-------------------------------------------------------K

The bright stars of Amh Araeng beat down on Karo’s head.  She had finished visiting with Alisaie and Haldric, and had hurried down to Nabaath Areng before Thancred and Ryne got there.  She wanted to allow them their own time, but also had wanted to share the site of her last conversation with Mifillia with G’raha.  Scouting from above  she didn’t see the pair so she landed her borrowed Amaro in the shade of the flood.  Alisaie had a good idea of giving Raha a last tour of the First--maybe take him to a place or two he hadn’t been before.  He had always expressed interest in seeing the frozen wall of the flood up close, the sparkling wall looking almost like ice above the desert.

“Haldric is getting better,” Karo narrated to the crystal in her hand as she walked the platform where she had said goodbye.  “The empty is not quite as empty, and people are feeling the joy of the night’s sky.  Your hope is contagious even out here, m’love.”  Kneeling at the center of the circle she said a prayer--for those they had lost and for those they could yet save.  A smile danced across her lips as the wind whipped around her in a warm embrace, skittering off across the dunes.  Time to take to the sky once more and head to Eulmore where Alphinaud was certain to be getting a teary goodbye.  

-------------------------------------------------------K

Having said her own goodbyes to the Chai family and promised to see Alphy back in the Crystarium, she looked out onto the water from the cliff high above the city.  It wasn’t far from the place she had found G’raha napping before storming Mt. Gulg and talked about the adventure that she was now starting with him.

“It’s a shame you came here really only to berate Vauthry.  The city isn’t too bad now that they’re working on turning things around,”  The sky was clear and Karo realized she was scanning the horizon for Ardbert’s home island.  She could feel him laugh at her, knowing that it was well out of eye site range, yet tinged with a feeling of affection for thinking of him nonetheless.  Turning, pretending to be miffed at her Warrior soul, she continued to chat with Raha.  “You talked about riding the Eternal Wind here on this very cliff, and soon we shall fly across them back home.  Then the true adventure will start,” her blue-black hair was being whipped by the wind making her crystal hair tassels chime as she clung to that hope as her soul pulsed in an embrace lending her strength to carry on.  Beneath the waves she knew she had to dive before going to find Uriangier in the home of the pixies.

-------------------------------------------------------K

Waves crashing high above her head was the only sound in the depths besides her own footsteps echoing in Amaurot’s halls.  Occasionally she’d see one of his shades gliding on to one purpose or another, but she let the star-lit trees and arches light a random path as she wove the streets aimlessly.

“You didn’t get to see much of the city, did you?” rhetorical as the question was, she knew that Emet--Hades--had kept his prize locked up away from where she could have stumbled across him before she turned into the Lightwarden he thought she would.  It had been a near thing looking back, nearer than she liked admitting.  Phantom hand on her shoulder, she could feel Ardbert’s solidarity with her.  I told you I cast my lot with yours.  We’re a team, hero- the whispered voice in her soul made her smile as she held Raha’s vessel to her heart once more.  “We saved you though, Raha, and you saved me in return.  I’ll paint a picture as vivid as can be when I spin this song for you, the one I have yet to write to remember than they once lived.  We all have to remember....” and hope continued to blossom in her heart.

-------------------------------------------------------K

Flowers waltzed around the wide meadows of Il Mheg and Karo walked up the pathway to the castle.  She had the sense to know whatever it was her Elezan friend had to say, that she probably wasn’t going to be in the mood for sight-seeing after.  Instead she decided to visit her Branch and let her say goodbye to G’raha as well.  The gigantic glowing wings of the castle sparkled in the sun and the stained glass windows glowed from within even in the middle of the day.  The city below was so clear under the water it was hard to remember that it wasn’t occupied by more than fish and Fuath.  

“Thank you for introducing me to Fe Ul,” a smile broke out thinking of how innocent that first meeting was in the markets of the Crystarium.  “As much as I kept forgetting to call on them, they always had a knack of getting me out of some of the worst trouble here,” Karo’s thoughts went back to the watchtower and the suggestion to learn more of the Crystal Exarch from the people he led. “Gonna have to try and keep this quick before Uri wonders where we are.”  With a theatrical spin and hope in her voice she shouted out to her Branch calling on them once more.

-------------------------------------------------------K

She had been right to do their goodbyes in Il Mheg before talking to Uriangier and Seto.  In a daze of overwhelmed emotions she had wandered into Slitherbough, and like the magic she wielded, Y’shtola renewed her energy with her antics with Runar..  Wishing the Hrothgar good luck, Karo wandered to the swamps edge before diving in again.  The ruins at the bottom of the lake were a good distraction for her historian, and she slowly pointed them out and their meanings one by one of the old Ronkan Empire.  Excitement rejuvenated, she then took him to the Raval and took in the murals of Amaurot, Hydaelyn and Zodiark once more.

“Wish you could have heard all our shock when he dropped that piece of information on us,” her sarcastic laugh echoed through the caverns.  “I think you saw enough of it when we relayed it back to you though, we couldn’t get back to the Tower fast enough.”  With one last contemplative look at the murals, she gave a nod, hope filling her voice again.

“Alright, enough of that, back to Ahm Araeng, we need to find Thancred and Ryne.  It’s time to go home.”

-------------------------------------------------------K

The Crystarium markets were abuzz as Karo picked up the trinket she had ordered from the jeweler.  She could tell the people of the city knew something was going on with all the Scions back in town, and word about what had happened with their Exarch.  There was just enough time for her to head back to her Pendants room and imbue it with the spell she had planned.  The spell required her to sing, and so she pulled out her harp and sat down at the edge of the window and after activating the first part of the spell with a tendril of aether, started to sing.  The song was one of hope, of the man from another world who had turned this new one into his home, caring for its people and leading them towards a better tomorrow.  Singing with all her heart and soul the sun slowly drew across the sky as she continued with every song of hope and inspiration she could remember.  Out of repertoire finally, she closed the second part of the spell and picked up the glowing pendant shaped like her harp.  She packed up her bags, shouldering them and headed back to the Tower.  Sneaking around the gathering, she headed up the stairs to the platform where she left her voice enveloping the crystalline form of the one who held her heart.  Hope surrounded them both as the ache in her heart finally melted away, and she headed down to bring them all home at last.

[silke-doomflare]

Meet the character: Silke

BASICS

► Name ➔  “Silke Doomflare. And yes, it’s got something to do with my profession!”

► Are you single ➔ Silke’s eyes suddenly get a bit wider. She blinks, and then purses her lips, becoming oddly interested in the nearby wall. “It’s complicated.”

► Are you happy ➔  “Mm, yeah, I guess I could say so”, she states after thinking for a moment. “I’m studying things I love, my family is safe and alive, I have a handful of people I could consider my friends.. Can’t really complain, although a little bit more gil wouldn’t hurt...”

► Are you angry? ➔  “Well, usually not. Though, at the moment I’m a bit pissed off at a certain colleague of mine who loudly and unnecessarily harshly judged my thesis of pyromancy in front of our professor and classmates. Like, hellooo? You can give critique and still be polite about it, geez…”

► Are your parents still married ➔  “They are”, Silke nods proudly. "I’ve seen so many broken families lately. I feel very privileged… and lucky.”

EIGHT FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “I’ve heard it was the place named Skatay Range. But I can’t remember a thing from it. I was so young when I was taken by slavers. So I like to think Kugane as my real birth place, since I grew up there.“

► Hair Color ➔ “Black I guess? At least it was the last time I checked! In bright light it looks like dark grey, though.”

► Eye Color ➔ Silke leans closer, so that the deep turquoise can hardly be missed. "You have troubles with your eyes or what? I happen to partly know a shady medic from a certain dark alley nearby. Want to know the address?”

► Birthday ➔ “Ninth sun of the first astral moon, I’ve heard.”

► Mood ➔ “Right now? I guess I’m feeling somewhat eager. There’s this new portal we’re going to test out tomorrow, and I was permitted to take part in it. Can you believe that? Usually they’re just like ‘no, Silke, don’t touch it, don’t touch anything’, but this time I’m allowed in. They must’ve finally noticed the genius I am.“

► Gender ➔ “God!” Silke yells and gets on her feet, pointing towards the roof. A long silence follows. “Seriously! Have you ever seen me on a battlefield? Have you seen the havoc I’ve --- no? Oh...”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Agh, such a difficult question. I like both. I like to swim and lay on a soft grass under a tree. But then again I also like to drink hot cocoa when it’s cold, wrap myself up into a blanket and watch the flames of our fireplace or snow falling outside.“

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoon of course? I’m not even awake before noon… no, wait. I like sleeping as well. Both?”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Of course I am. If we don’t count the feeling of aether flowing through me while I cast spells and blow things to smithereens, I love most the smell of old tomes, parchment, ink and all sorts of sweets, especially ice-cream. I also love chocobos. If it wasn’t possible to be a mage I’d definitely become a chocobo breeder. Perhaps I’ll become one when my career is over and spells no longer stay in my head. I’ll retire and start breeding chocobos. Yes, a perfect plan!“

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “I definitely do! I fell in love with my dog the moment I saw him. Have you ever visited Kugane? Well anyway, they have these small, orange, pointy eared and curly tailed dogs there in almost every house. It’s like their national dog or something, they’re so popular.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “I hate to admit this, but it was him… I thought we were doing fine, but one day he started to complain I didn’t give him enough attention, and that I was studying too much. I mean… how can one even study too much? I don’t get it.“

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “I guess I have. Not on purpose, though! Honestly, some people are so sensitive it’s harder not to break their hearts, geez… What an annoying subject to talk about, anyway.” Silke ruffles her head uneasily.

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Of course not. I wouldn’t be able to ever become an archmage if I wasn’t dedicated to my studies.“

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Silke’s usually cheerful expression grows darker suddenly. "My sister. We don’t see very often, but when we do, I try to show my care as much as I can. She’s hanging out with shady folk sometimes, and I can’t help but worry at times will she come home or not.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I surely hope not! Would be creepy to have someone admiring you from afar, without letting you know. Isn’t that like stalking? It’s only good manners to make yourself known so we can find out do we get along or not.“

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “No, I don’t think so. Or perhaps I once almost did… there was this huge tome - as big as those holy scriptures they have in the cathedral - in a certain old bookstore. The merchant was old as sky and I was afraid they’d close the place soon. And the tome was expensive. I was a lot younger back then and didn’t have much money, and my sister was like ‘no Silke, you totally won’t buy a book written in some dead language no one can read to take more room in your previously cramped room and collect dust.’ At first I was about to leave it at that, but I ended up snitching money from her cache.” Silke grins impishly. “No regrets!”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “I have to choose again? You’re, like, asking me do I like to enjoy nice things existing or actually take them to be mine.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “What if I started to ask you annoying questions like strawberries or chocolate? Can’t choose, huh? Huh?”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ Silke falls silent for a moment. “…just when I was yapping at you for silly questions. Dogs all the way! I like cats too, and maybe I would be more of a cat person if my first pet had been a cat. But it was a dog, and there’s no going back!“

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few best friends, absolutely. I have both, but I’ve noticed I enjoy the company of my closest friends a lot more. You can do all sorts of crazy stuff with them you can’t with anyone else.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Definitely a wild night out! I have romantic nights by myself all the time with wine and chocolate and our fireplace, and I rarely get to go out.“

► Day or night ➔ “I like both, actually. At days I’m studying, and at nights I’m doing my homework.” Silke shrugs and grins.

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Silke becomes more serious once more. “Like I told you, I was taken from my original home by slavers. Life wasn’t very nice back then. I tried to run, many times. But I was very small and weak, and they were big, strong and fast.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “This actually happened during one of my escape attempts. I was lucky I didn’t die. I still have a scar left.“ Silke lifts her bangs and shows a scar near her temple.

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Freedom. Yes… I think losing our loved ones is the first thing we usually think of when someone asks for the thing we fear the most. But I think losing your freedom would be even worse. If you’re free, you can always start anew, but if you’re being held captive, you can’t do anything. Nothing at all.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ Silke gives a long look at you and raises an eyebrow again. “Considering the things I just told you, there just may have been such situations...”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Mmh, both are important, but I think I like eyes more. I’m not a spiritual person, but I still think you can kind of see their soul there. Their essence. If they’re good or evil. The creepiest thing I’ve seen is probably living people with empty eyes, especially those without any kindness in them…”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Shorter, definitely. I’m quite short myself despite my heels and I don’t like it when someone looks down on me. Well, most of people  kind of have to, they can’t help it, but you know?“

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  “Pff, do you even need to ask? Intelligence, of course. There are very few things that… truly infuriate me… But the one thing I absolutely can’t stand in others is chosen stupidity. Yes, chosen! Can you believe, that there truly exists people who don’t want to learn new things, be it about themselves or other people or the world that surrounds them?” Silke starts to imitate an elderly person, talking in a low, hoarse tone: “Silly girl. If we would discover new things or try them out, we would be in a situation we’ve never been in before.” She bursts into a mocking laughter. “Yes, someone really said that to me…”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Relationship, hands down. I’ve had my share of hook-ups.” Silke apparently can’t stop her eyes rolling towards the roof as a protest.

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Yeah, we get along very well. I have some arguments every now and then with my two siblings, but nothing too serious.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not anymore. It used to be such a mess, though.” Silke lets out an uneasy laugh. “After me and Asagi were adopted, we got our life eventually back together. Despite a few ups and downs it’s been quite stable after that. A place to belong to and meaningful chores do wonders.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No, definitely not. My parents have always been reasonable. Even during our wildest teenage years I can’t remember there would’ve been anything too major…“

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Silke has some difficulties holding back a sudden laughter. "I got kicked out of class, yeah! Though I still think it was unfair towards me. It wasn’t my fault. It was an alchemy class and I guess I had made some miscalculation with my mixture… I tried to tell my professor I’m not quite sure about it, but he just had to go and push his big head too close to the cauldron.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No, I don’t hate my friends. If I did, I wouldn’t be friends with them, would I? Some of them have some annoying traits, but... hate? Nah.“

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ "Sadly no… I’ve had some… disappointments. You know, there’s quite a lot of people who seem like they’re good friends, but once you have a bad day, or few bad days, they suddenly disappear and want to hear nothing about it. So weird. I certainly wouldn’t abandon my friends like that.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Absolutely Iris. She’s a bit odd sometimes, in a good way though, and her vocabulary is quite vulgar and it upsets some people, but I think it’s hilarious. I’ve never met anyone so quick-witted before. There’s not a single boring moment while she’s around. Oh, and nowadays there’s also this certain miqo’te called Shaura. We haven’t known each other for very long, but just like with Iris, we just clicked right away.“

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “I think my sister might… I’ve tried to keep some secrets from her, like me loaning her gil without asking sometimes, but I think she knows. I have no idea how the heck! I mean, I’m smart, but she’s even smarter… If it was possible, I would like to change brains with her for a day or two. I want to know how she does it.”

[forgiven-whimsy]

Stories you want to write

But for some reason haven’t (yet) 

@anomaliewrites tagged me in this little activity, and...well....here’s the pandora’s box. 

Tagging: @brightephemera (cause I know you are bursting at the seam with ideas!) @msviolacea,  @ivalane @raelly-writing, @frostmantle And whoever happens to see it and wants to share all their brain worms.  FFXIV (they’re all for ffxiv  :P ) MSQ spoilers below.  

I’m also putting this under a cut...cause.....so much. 

These are from my Blood Lily Series, that are re-telling's of the MSQ with embellishment, and with character and ship focus, I’ve cut and paste these ideas directly from my ideas folder. each fic builds on the last.(also there's a lot of angst...cause I don’t play nice with my OC’s.) 

Crystal Path  -  Thancred x wol, Lahabrea x wol (non explicit dubcon-noncon,) G’raha x wol, ARR retelling includes CT and up to patch 2.3, Lahabrea uses Thancred and Wol’s feeling against them, undermines and gaslights wol, attempted murder after Titan. Recovery, healing, complicated feelings post possession. Angst, G’raha and Wol have a one night stand the night before he locks himself in the tower. What could have been, bad end. Long fic From Ishgard with Love - Aymeric x wol, Haurchefant x wol, love triangle, HW retelling (starting at patch 2.4) with more romance, more balls and dancing, angst and pining, happy ending. Long fic. End of the Song - Aymeric x wol, Thancred x Hilda, post HW patch content, engagement, growing apart, eventual break up, angst, surprise pregnancy, bad end, pining, love isn’t enough. Long fic. 

Eye of the Storm - Hien x wol, miscarriage, depression, using sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism, uses Hien, feral towards Zenos (to kill not fuck.) ANGST, WoL is a mess, fear of feelings and commitment, bad end. Stormblood retelling (through post StB patch content.) Long Fic.

In Shadows - Emet-Selch x wol, Thancred x wol, Shadowbringers retelling to the end of patch 5.1. Unhealthy relationships, depressed, self-destructive WoL. WoL is an even bigger mess. Directs anger at Exarch and Scions, finds solace with Emet. PTSD from near Lightwarden possession, loses ability to use light aspected magic, Thancred tries to help, pining .BAd End. Long fic. Now I know what you’re thinking, Whimsy, what the fuck. Angst is cathartic, and I like exploring the impact of trauma (also shipping your wol with everyone is self care.) Shiloh was pretty good and well adjusted before becoming the WoL, all her trauma occurs in canon (and some HC) 

Next:  Multiple happy endings (otome paths?) as each one features a different LI, cause I can’t make up my mind, and am in multishipping hell.. They all jump off from the same point at the end of Shadowbringers the end of 5.1, and explores how each LI would deal with Shiloh’s trauma, and how Shiloh would come to her recovery in each different scenario. (fyi my current wip From Shadows -Estinien x wol, is one of these fics.) 

New Dawn - Hien x WoL, WoL ends up in Doma to learn the way of the samurai to compensate for her loss of magic. Hien agrees to teach her, on the condition that she also takes the time to heal. Working through their past “relationship”, forgiveness, letting go of shame, and guilt. Long Fic.

The Long Way - Thancred x WoL, Thancred helps WoL through no longer being able to use magic, offering to teach her daggers/gunblade (he can relate) FINALLY working out their long time pining, simmering feelings, and shared trauma. Long Fic.

Dear Hope - Aymeric x WoL, WoL returns to Ishgard to learn Mashinistry to help compensate for no longer being able to use magic. Inevitably runs into Aymeric, rekindling friendship, feelings still present, tentative steps towards revisiting relationship, discuss needs, and expectations, healing, forgiveness, shared pain and trauma, understanding and compromise. Long Fic.

Canon divergent, AU, These two idea, exist outside the Blood Lily universe. 

Body guard modern AU - Zenos x WoL.   The Garlean royal family has a problem, and it's that the crown prince's guards keep quitting. They've exhausted all the various private security companies within Garlemald, and the emperor is forced to hire from a foreign company. The Scions of Eorzea come highly recommended, and promise to send their best. Their best, is a seasoned special forces veteran, a former mixed martial arts champion, highly discrete, and highly professional. Looks good on paper. No one expects the 5'2" slip of a woman who breezes into the palace, particularly not Zenos. And after she slams him on his back in an impromptu spar, he's smitten. Second chances - emet-selch x wol. Canon divergent, Azem’s stone has some of Hades aether, and was not in fact a one time use. Sad WoL wishes on it again with all her heart not expecting anything, Ghost Hades shows up, no longer tempered by Zodiark, conversations, offers to help her. Figure out a way to get his fractured soul into one of the clones in Garlemald so he can live one last lifetime with wol as her ally. One last lifetime with his love before he embraces a true death, happy ending. Long Fic. 

NSFW one shot ideas....cause....I gotta. 

Dom Artoirel - Artoirel x wol. Collar, Bj, punishment, hard fucking. One shot

Edging Haurchefant - Haurchefant x wol. Make the good boy feral, orgasm denial, edging, praise, BJ, face sitting, letting him loose to take his pleasure when she’s done and he fucks her into the ground. One shot

Pre-Doma Castle fucking - Hien x wol, drunk passion, one shot. Considering how slow a writer I am, and how nearly all of these damn ideas are long fic....who know if I’ll get to them all. I want to try though, I’m stupid excited about every one of them. 

[emotionalsupportbun-chan]

yikes here it is ah 

slightly nsfw i guess 

part 2

part 1

It hit like a truck in the night. The walls of the concrete hall beyond the elevator were painted with an impressive number of Sapphic murals, each different in style, but touching on a theme that resonated something like homesickness within Zhao’s chest. Like being a tourist in your own home town. They studied the paintings, trailing behind this strange woman, left almost incognizant by their awe to the bone-deep bass of dance music straining past the steel doors at the end of the corridor. 

A butch with their bubblegum princess and a parfait shared between them; satin-gowned hostesses with popped champagne bottles draped over a couch and one another; two women on a park bench snuggled in the snowfall. 

Maybe it was the lingering effects of too much to drink and too much to fight, but an unexpected amount of emotion welled at the sight of the painted cinder block - a subterranean ocean set churning by a sudden tectonic shift. 

It was so jarring that Zhao stopped dead, the woman’s hand slipping out of theirs with the abrupt lack of motion. “Uh, where are we going, exactly?” The undecided emotion made its choice and settled on anxiety. 

“Huh?” She back-tracked, sliding an arm through the crook of their elbow. “It’s just some place my friend runs.” The woman swung them around to look them in the eye. Zhao glanced down. She was smiling and still drunk, but there was something else swimming behind her gaze. Concern? Uncertainty? A hand came up to rest on their cheek and she came up for the lightest peck. So quick you’d blink and miss it. They almost did. 

Almost. Those near-quiet steel butterflies sprang back into action, competing with the weird anxiety and the quickly fading whiskey buzz. For a brief moment, they wondered if their soul might leave their body behind. Or if their very atoms would disseminate into the aether. When neither of those things happened, they let the woman lead them the rest of the way down the hall. 

The key to the elevator that she had picked up behind the trash bags also fit neatly into the lock on the steel doors. Out of their reverie, Zhao finally felt the music. It came in pulsating waves, rattling the knob, the doors themselves, the screws in Zhao’s glasses out of the frames. It almost reignited the ache in their bruises. The anxiety settled a bit. There would be no talking here - no thinking, no questions, no trying to decode whatever that was - just booze, and bass, and maybe a handful of titty.   

The doors pushed open heavy. You’d think they’d creak, if you could hear anything over the candy-coated, pixelated mess of EDM playing over a set of standing speakers hooked up to someone’s phone. 

There were more people here than Zhao had expected. Dozens of bodies crushed into the room, barely enough space for a breeze to slip between them. The person tending bar raised a hand when they entered, waving frantically. They shouted a name only for it to be swallowed by sound. Zhao wasn’t great at reading lips, but “Hikari”, maybe? 

Hand still in theirs, the woman waved back with a smile. It was immediately contagious. Any apprehension or weird too-complicated feelings Zhao’d had were chased to the corners of their mind. She turned back to them and leaned in, yelling over the music. “Go find a table; I’ll get drinks.” 

They nodded and set off to wander the perimeter of the room, where short tables seating two or three were shoved up against the walls. Three rotations later and they managed to swoop down onto a two-seater after another couple - two people that wouldn’t look out of place auditioning for a sci-fi movie - left. The top of the table was sticky with spilled liquor and something too small to see in the dark crunched underfoot, but they imagined that the woman had little intention of staying seated for very long. 

They scanned the crowd while they waited. For the first time in maybe their entire lives, they were in a space completely devoid of the traditional, hypermasculine energy they were used to. No shouted insults, no aggressive posturing. There was a lightness to the atmosphere that brought back that oddly homesick feeling. It reminded them of the one and only time they’d taken a family trip back to the mainland when they were a child. This place, unmistakably theirs and undeniably for them, a part of them, but still foreign. They were missing something they never knew they’d lost. Adrift once again in unwelcome introspection, Zhao was tempted to sink into a familiar melancholy, despite the synth drum beating against their body. But, like the sun breaking through the clouds, they were saved when a familiar face, still smiling, emerged from the crowd. 

She approached with two small trays that looked like they’d once been intended to hold those little candles. Though instead of candles, each recess was filled with a shot of different colored liquor in a classic rainbow pattern. She deposited one in front of them and sat in the seat opposite. “House special,” she yelled, knocking back the red, orange, and yellow shot in succession. The third one seemed to hit a little harder. The yellow liquid left her shuddering and shaking her head. “They get stronger as you go.” She winked. 

Zhao’d expected something along the lines of watered down vodka, with this many served at once, but was quickly proven wrong. Like her, the third shot sent a shiver down their spine and a line of fire into their gut. But it was sweet, lemon flavored and just slightly tangy. The previously waning intoxication came roaring back, painting their cheeks red and leaving them numb. They looked up after setting the shot glass back into its recess. The woman had already cleared her flight and sat staring at them with a heat in her eyes. They were thankful for the existing alcohol-induced blush. Once satisfied she had their attention, she reached across the table and grabbed a shot glass from their tray, skipping straight to the neon purple one at the end. The strongest one, pungently grape-scented. She raised it to their lips, eyes fixed on theirs, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Bottoms up, cutie.” 

-

Three songs later and they were back at the table - sweaty, out of breath, aching once again but for a much better reason. The weight of the alcohol had come down in full force half way through the first song, so they’d spent the last few minutes with very little awareness of their surroundings. The world had narrowed to the small bubble of her in front of them - full body pressed against theirs, hips fit perfectly against theirs, cheek pressed against theirs and arms draped around their neck. She’d whispered to them the whole time. Little things about her day, at first, but as the effects of the liquor swelled, little things became heated things. The Sexy Soapland Girl voice made its return as she purred sweet nothings in their ear - how strong they were, how hot they were, how pretty their mouth was…

You’re so sexy, Zhao-chan 

Touch me, Zhao-chan 

I’m wet, baby 

Hit it from the back 

By the time they stumbled off the dance floor, still plastered to one another, Zhao was so wound up they couldn’t think straight. She was so close and the rest of the universe had dimmed and quieted to a background hum. Surely no one would notice if - 

She pushed them down into their seat and followed, collapsing into their lap. Hands travelled up their arms to their neck, to their face, cupping their cheeks and wiping away stray particles of glitter. Eyes half-lidded, swaying slightly, she leaned in with little hesitation, capturing their mouth in a deeper kiss than had been expected. She was soft and warm and Zhao felt themselves melting under the pressure of her. They were momentarily content to let her control the situation, leaning back as she drove the kiss further, grazing teeth against mint-flavored lips. Until she shifted to swing her legs to either side of theirs, straddling them, skirt having slid almost too far up the thigh. A flush coursed from head to gut as she ground her hips against theirs with a quiet moan. If they didn’t stop now, Zhao wouldn’t be held responsible for their actions. 

They pulled back. “Hikari -” The name, hoarsely spoken, was a gamble. 

She moved farther down, trailing kisses down their neck with a layover to nibble along their jaw line. 

“Please -” 

She stopped at the crook to lap at the sensitive skin there. 

“We can’t, not here,” they choked out - breathy, light-headed. 

“Fine,” she said, face still pressed against their shoulder. A pause, then she peeled herself off of them. Her bright red lipstick was smeared half way down her chin. Her clothes had pulled in odd directions; her hair disheveled from Zhao’s wandering hands. She looked feral, with an intensity of desire in her expression that they’d never seen on a woman. Not one that was looking at them, at least. 

They started to stand but she grabbed them by the collar and dragged them not just to their feet, but out the main doors and into the long hall beyond. Zhao wasn’t sure where they’d go - a hotel, her place? 

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. They made it halfway down the hall before she lit upon them again, hands making quick work of shirt buttons and elastic bands as they braced their back against the wall. 

From a different angle, it was the perfect shot. A woman knelt before her lover, mouth descending upon delicate folds. A variation on a theme. A continuation of a purpose. A reflection of the scattered scenes of love and lust decorating this hidden place.

[katzenkrieg]

Headcanon: Cam’s Physical and Mental/Aetheric Changes from pre-ARR through post-5.3

“What should I do today?” I wonder to myself. “I think I’ll stay on task and be produc--no, wait, now I’m writing a six-page overview of all the changes Cam’s experienced over the entirety of his story so far. Hm.”

Spoilers for everything through 5.3; Cam’s full lore document is here. It is currently 103 pages long. No regerts.

Physical and Mental/Aetheric Changes (A Rough Timeline):

The Battle of Carteneau begins - has first Echo flash (doesn’t remember it later)

The Battle of Carteneau ends - while knocked unconscious, has his face permanently tattooed by an experimental Garlean prisoner-of-war-marking device. The device is faulty, and also inflicts electrical damage that leaves Cam permanently mute.

The Calamity takes place and resolves - along with everyone else on the Source, Cam is assumed to have Rejoined with the shard of his shared soul that lived in whichever world was destroyed during the Calamity. The Rejoining took place across the rift/Lifestream, so no memories accompany the Rejoining, though it does increase soul density.

Regularly following the Battle of Carteneau to the present day - has Echo flashes, painful pseudo-blackouts during which he experiences the memories of others. He can’t predict when these will happen or will them to happen; though they can be useful, they’re also a serious liability, since they can (and do) occur in the middle of battle. The Echo also allows him to understand all spoken languages and to be understood when speaking (or, in his case, signing).

5 years after Carteneau, when he arrives in Gridania - first hears Hydaelyn’s voice and sees her in visions. It’s possible he’s Tempered by Hydaelyn at this time, giving him resistance to Tempering by other primals. Sporadically hears and has visions of Hydaelyn from that time to the present day.

Before the final battle with Gaius and the Ultima Weapon - receives the full Blessing of Light. Provides him with some protection against Ascian influence and allows him to summon a weapon of Light at pivotal moments, particularly when necessary to destroy Ascians.

After fighting Midgardsormr - loses the Blessing of Light, apparently due to Midgardsormr’s interference or in response to a bargain struck between Midgardsormr and Hydaelyn. His ability to hear Hydaelyn and call on the Blessing weakens; in particular, he no longer has unique protection against and the ability to destroy Ascians. He’s still able to be understood and to understand others, though, and still has Echo flashes.

Over the course of his time in Ishgard - regains the Blessing of Light.

During his final confrontations with both Thordan VII and Nidhogg - channels the power of both an eye of Nidhogg and an eye of Hraesvelgr. Doesn’t seem to be permanently influenced by either of these experiences, but it’s always possible something will show up in the future.

During his time in the First, prior to the defeat of Emet-Selch/Hades - absorbs the Light of five Lightwardens. Each absorption further disrupts his aether; to people with the ability to see aether, his looks exactly like that of a Lightwarden, even prior to his absorbing the Light of all five. Begins to experience brief painful convulsions during which he emits Light aether and has his vision blurred by Light. Following the absorption of Innocence/Vauthry’s Light energy, he loses control over the Light energy within him and becomes, for all intents and purposes, a Lightwarden in everything but appearance. 

He immediately begins to regain his voice, although it’s no longer one that’s recognizably human--it sounds almost metallic, extremely precise and clear, and seems to come from all directions at once.

Over the next few weeks, his new voice strengthens and sin eater growth forms around his throat; it replaces his damaged voice box. 

Regularly coughs up white ichor.

His hair begins to bleach to white.

His facial tattoos also begin to bleach, turning a very light gold/yellow.

His eye color begins to deepen to a truer red. 

White scar-like lines appear leading down from the sin eater growth at his throat straight down his sternum to the base of his ribcage, horizontally across the base of his ribcage, and across the top of his collarbones. These lines become more distinct over time and a recession starts to appear in the middle of each, as though the skin there is receding/pulling apart.

He begins to develop sharp downwards-pointing scale-like growth lining his throat, similar to pharyngeal teeth in some predators. 

His vision is permanently washed-out by Light and increasingly colorless. 

Any clothes he wears or objects he has on his person regularly also begin to bleach out to shades of white and gold. 

About a week into being a Lightwarden- he collapses during the Scions’ undersea search for Emet-Selch and almost loses control to the point of transforming. Fortunately, he has enough time to call on Feo Ul out of desperation; they answer and inform the Scions that Cam’s starving--he now requires living aether to survive. If he goes without living aether too long, he’ll collapse and transform; with living aether, he may be able to hold out longer against transformation. Feo Ul channels enough aether to Cam that he’s able to recover.

Following his first collapse from aether starvation - at least one aether-rich being stays near Cam (preferably touching him) at all times. Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanoa, and Mochi (his Fat/ter Cat) all help by playing this roll in turns--usually by riding on his shoulder or on top of his pack. Ardbert also offers aether. At night, all of them (including Ardbert) sleep either next to him or curled up on top of him, feeding him aether throughout the night. 

By the time they reach Amaurot - even the combined efforts of the beings feeding him aether are becoming stretched, and Cam has begun to catch himself viewing living things (especially anything very small, like the tidepool invertebrates the Tempest is full of) as food/prey. 

After entering Amaurot - the nature of Amaurot and Emet-Selch’s power there prevents any of the aether-rich beings who’ve been helping Cam from entering the city; only Ardbert is able to accompany Cam into Amaurot. His time in the city is marked by increasingly desperate hunger, to the point that he *does* eat some small creatures alive (but magically stunned) to see if that helps. It does, but only a tiny amount. He tries to conceal all of this from the other Scions. (Cam’s about as sneaky as a box of rocks falling on your head, so this doesn’t work very well.)

During the confrontation with Emet-Selch - loses control entirely and collapses, coughing up ichor, and beginning his final transformation into a sin eater. Ardbert offers to Rejoin with Cam, and Cam accepts, giving them both enough aether and a strong enough Rejoined soul to channel the Light aether within them into a weapon of Light and wipe out Hades.

Immediately following Hades’ defeat - having used the weapon of Light, he appears completely purged of excess Light energy and almost all of his Lightwarden transformations have disappeared, except the mutation around his throat and his sin eater voice. His hair color and tattoos remained bleached; his eyes have returned to their normal color.

After returning to the Source (but before the other Scions are able to return) - 

His hair begins to grow back in darker, eventually darkening to his usual black with blue highlights.

His facial tattoos gradually return to black.

Over the course of several weeks, he weakens again, similarly to, though not as severely as, he weakened due to aether hunger in the First. He returns to the Source briefly to consult Y’shtola, the Exarch, and Urianger about this; they confirm that, contrary to their original impressions right after the fight with Hades, his aether is still over-aspected to Light and it seems as though he still retains some need for living aether. He’s no longer at risk of transforming into anything if he ‘goes hungry,’ but he will eventually weaken and possibly eventually fall into a coma. 

Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanoa, and Mochi all again take up the responsibility of making sure to feed him enough aether that the aether hunger doesn’t affect him; this is much, much easier than before, and he really only needs a small aether infusion each day. The cats, in particular, are around him enough anyway that he rarely notices any deprivation. 

Krile also suggests he and Cid (or other researchers/scientists) find a way to cultivate an extremely aether-rich phytoplankton that’s native to oceans in the Source and make sure Cam keeps several vials of water infused with them on his person at all times, on the off-chance he’s isolated somewhere where Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanao, and Mochi aren’t able to reach him. The idea is a successful one, and he carries this solution with him, in magical suspension so the phytoplankton stay alive, at all times.

His voice remains inhuman and disturbing, and the sin eater growth around his throat proves to be permanent.

Cid adapts an ancient Allagan caster’s torque so that it modifies Cam’s voice into something comfortably human. Cam starts wearing the torque at all times.

Cam has continuous (often several times a day) painful Echo-like flashes from Ardbert’s memories. He assumes (correctly) that this is a result of Rejoining with Ardbert, and just accepts that they’re a handicap he has to deal with and that they may never go away (though he’s concerned that they may mean Ardbert’s soul hasn’t completely Rejoined with his and is in pain).

He has night terrors and intense nightmares, most of them containing flashbacks of either Ardbert’s traumatic memories (particularly his own suicide and that of his friends’ and his time spent alone as a lost spirit) or the moments Cam came closest to transforming into a Lightwarden.

He discovers he can now fight using the great axe and a marauder/warrior style, despite never having trained with/in these.

He finds that he’s more apt to speak (though he still usually signs out of habit and preference, especially before Cid develops the torque that modifies his voice); Ardbert had no experience ever being unable to speak, and this affects Cam’s own tendencies. 

He’s now amazingly good with animals. He was never bad with them before, but he’s incredibly good with riding animals and sometimes even wild animals now, and can calm them remarkably effectively and quickly. This is, again, based on Ardbert’s own talents and life experiences.

After defeating Elidibus and being exposed to Azem’s memory stone:

The painful Echo flashes of Ardbert’s memories disappear, and Cam and Ardbert finally integrate completely. Memories from part of his soul’s time as Ardbert are all there for Cam to access, but they’re comfortably distant and don’t conflict with or disrupt his memories of his life as just Cam or his life after Rejoining; they usually come up to the surface when he needs them or when he runs into something in particular that reminds him of something specific from that time (sense memories, in particular, will trigger for him now and then). He’s able to navigate the First as though he’s lived there for years, and knows a lot more than people who don’t know about his Rejoining think could be possible about the world before the flood of Light.

His night terrors and nightmares become less frequent and severe, though they don’t entirely go away.

He remembers anything that involved Cam and Ardbert being in the same place at the same time from both sides, which *can* be a bit disorienting. One reliable way to make Cam blush is to ask about what that’s like and how much he remembers in that way--since he and Ardbert had developed a sexual/romantic relationship as time went on in the First (which obviously required quite a bit of creativity), he has some two-perspective memories that he’s never going to describe to anyone, thanks.

People ask if it feels like he’s two people or if Ardbert’s still there within him as a separate entity. Cam has yet to successfully explain to anyone, but to him it feels like he’s just always been one person--just occasionally that one person was in two places at once. He also thinks this should feel weird, and like it somehow invalidates his being Cam or Ardbert’s being Ardbert, but it doesn’t. It just feels natural.

Cam’s aether’s settled even more into a proper stable integrated state, more so than it’s ever been post-Lightwarden and post-Rejoining. It’s also more intense and slightly denser, even considering his Rejoining. Y’shtola and Urianger have concluded this, and the complete integration of Ardbert’s soul and memories, must be a result of Cam’s experience with Azem’s memory stone.

He still retains some aether hunger, but it’s extremely slight and even the normal level of exposure to arcanic or aether-rich entities that comes from going about an average day means he rarely even notices it.

His voice, even without the torque, still sounds recognizably inhuman but also less alien. He’s comfortable using his voice unmodified now in certain situations (especially if he needs projection or needs to be heard through a lot of other noise/chaos). The sin eater growth hasn’t changed.

He’s grown several inches. Fortunately, this growth spurt stopped after a few months and doesn’t show any signs of returning. It does mean he went without any clothes or armor that fit properly for a while :| Again, everyone assumes this was a result of exposure to Azem’s memory stone. Cam’s just grateful he hasn’t ended up 15 feet tall…

His hair started to grow in a different color again--this time yellow and orange. At this point, Cam’s just like, “oh, fuck it, who cares anymore” about changing coloration occasionally. This is likely another result of exposure to Azem’s memory stone; Cam’s body seems to have shifted slightly to reflect some of what the Scions assume was Azem’s appearance.

His facial tattoos have also lightened back to light gold/yellow, though they’ll shift rather startlingly to an intense light blue from time to time--sometimes quickly and briefly and sometimes fading into the color and back over the course of days. Nero’s posited that it’s related to aether conditions, either externally or internally, or possibly due to the interplay of both external and internal conditions, but, as usual, no one’s letting him test this theory out by exposing Cam to aetherical extremes. No fun.

After having it pointed out to him that tattoos aren’t *actually* part of someone’s living body and they really shouldn’t be able to change with him like that, Cam’s grudgingly accepted that they’re probably part of him and not just ink scarring his skin any longer. Urianger has also untactfully pointed out that they look remarkably like Ascian projection markings or possibly Amaurotine mask markings, and Cam gave him enough of a look that Urianger shut up. 

Cam can call up a glamour to make both his hair and facial tattoos appear their original colors if he wants to; he can’t do much about the height change, though.

Cam’s sure he’s not Azem, despite the physical changes; the memory stone gave him some general vague feelings about Azem’s existence and nature, but nothing specific. Overall, what he felt from it was rock-solid reassurance that no matter what changed in the future, his life was his own and not Azem’s and that he could be absolutely confident in that. It also seems to have, as mentioned above, strengthened his aetherical integration and smoothed over all of the cracks both becoming a Lightwarden and Rejoining left in his aether and identity.

Experientially, Cam is now the second oldest Scion, behind G’raha Tia. Ardbert was likely in his 20s and Cam is 35 at the end of Shadowbringers; Ardbert also spent a century as a wandering ghost. This brings Cam up to around 160 years old -- 60 if you don’t count Ardbert’s time after death. Thancred is very pleased not to have to deal with being the ‘old man’ of the Scions any longer, now that Cam and G’raha have taken that title and run off with it by centuries. Cid now occasionally emphasizes the ‘old’ when he calls Cam ‘old friend,’ if he really wants to give Cam shit.

[magicmastered]

Plot Holes in Infinity War

If you don’t want to see criticism of Infinity War, I suggest that you don’t read/filter your tags/block me.

Now.

Avengers: Infinity War is one of Marvel’s biggest movies, being among the longest MCU movies and quite successful in the box office. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean it’s a great movie. The storyline that calls itself a plot is smashed together in whatever manner makes a few specific scenes happen. That style of writing has its trademarks—plots that could almost be used as cheesecloth. I’m not kidding; there’s tons of them. Some are within the movie. Some fly in the face of the rest of the MCU.

Here’s all the plot holes that I can think of. After the first couple scenes the chronological order gets messed up a little, but here goes.

1. Starting at the beginning here. So...Loki has the Tesseract. Why didn’t he use it to make a portal to get the Asgardian refugees out (or as many as he can, anyway)? We know he can use it. Why didn’t they just start a ship-chase to buy a little time and use that time to evacuate?

2. So, Loki knows Thanos, right? He’d know Thanos’ M.O. Wouldn’t he know that Thanos would go for Thor? Why not stuff Thor in his pocket dimension beforehand? Did Thanos and the Black Order block him from doing that? That’s not what I remember seeing. Loki was standing off sort of on his own at the very beginning of the scene.

3. Where has the Hulk been? Yes, “we have a Hulk” is a cool callback and it looks good as an entrance, but wouldn’t a Hulk be good to have when Thanos and the Black Order were slaughtering the Asgardian refugees? Why was he staying back the whole time? It doesn’t make sense. If he hadn’t been staying back, Thanos and co. would’ve known about him, and the surprise-attack wouldn’t have been a surprise. Was he just sitting on his butt listening to the refugees dying until he heard the words “we have a Hulk”?

4. Once Hulk does attack, Loki dives for Thor and drops the Tesseract. What. Why not just hold onto the Tesseract, grab Thor, and portal out of there? Wouldn’t that make more sense than dropping it for someone else (Ebony Maw) to pick up?

5. Heimdall. Why does Heimdall rescue the Hulk instead of Thor, Loki, or both? He’s known Hulk for maybe a day or two. He’s known Thor and Loki for over a thousand years. What’s going on with that? Why does he save the one he just met as opposed to the ones he’s known since their infancy?

6. More about Heimdall. Since when has he been able to summon the Bifrost? This is a major point of TDW. If Heimdall had been able to summon the Bifrost without the actual structure, Thor and co. wouldn’t have had to break Loki out of prison. How can he suddenly do it now? Why hasn’t he used it before?

7. Where did Loki go during the Hulk-vs-Thanos fight? He disappears after going for Thor for several minutes. Where to? I know people have brought this up before, but I want to know.

8. Why doesn’t he stay there? He’s stuck in a ship with five people who’ve just killed half the refugees his risked his life to rescue, who’d be more than happy to kill him (at best), and they’re more or less ignoring his presence where he currently is. Why go out and deliberately draw their attention?

9. Loki attacking Thanos at all. What is Loki doing?! He knows Thanos better than any other protagonist on that ship. He just saw Thanos beat Hulk one-on-one. Why does he think this is something he should do?!

10. More on that stupid, stupid attack. Loki’s got plenty of powers and abilities. Super-strength, durability, insane reflexes, freaky intelligence, combat skills, ice manipulation, illusions, invisibility, teleportation (this is canon, check out Thor: Heroes and Villains), shapeshifting, telekinesis, off the top of my head. I probably forgot something. Loki overpowered Odin. He has all this and likely more at his disposal, and he attacks Thanos with what? A knife. One knife that barely reaches Thanos’s throat.

11. Another thing about this attack. Considering the above, he probably knew he was going to die. So why did he do it? People say that he was sacrificing himself for Thor. Except...him dying wouldn’t have stopped Thanos at all. Thanos could’ve just killed Thor after Loki’s death. Loki dying or Loki being alive wouldn’t change a thing. And besides, Thanos all but did that anyway when he blew up the ship.

12. Thanos killing Loki. The Russos said that Thanos killed Loki for ‘disobedience’. Presumably this means Loki’s ‘disobedience’ in Avengers (2012). But...death is not what Thanos (or his underling the Other, rather) threatened Loki with for failure/disobedience. The threat was, “if you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon or crevice where he can’t find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something sweet as pain.” That is...not death. Definitely not what Thanos actually did.

13. Still more on Thanos killing Loki. Let’s look at the insane stuff Loki’s survived so far: falling into an unstable wormhole (in the prequel comics, Odin claims that this should have scattered Loki across the universe), a year of torture from Thanos, getting thrashed by the Hulk (who’s nearly as strong as Thanos), taking a sword through his chest and back, and getting knocked out of the Bifrost (note that Thor seems somewhat surprised with his “you’re alive!” in Ragnarok). And now apparently getting his neck broken is going to kill him.

14. Okay, finally done with the first scene. How did Heimdall know about the Sanctum? How did he know to send Bruce/Hulk there? How did he know about Strange? Thor and Loki didn’t know that Earth had wizards in Ragnarok. How does Heimdall know? Did they tell him? When? They’ve been pretty busy.

15. Dr. Strange keeps a list of threats, but he doesn’t know about Thanos. He doesn’t even seem to know that a threat so large exists. I suppose this could be a case of Thanos simply never having been to Earth, but it still seems off. Wouldn’t Strange at least know that there’s something huge out there? Given that the Masters of the Mystic Arts know about beings around the multiverse and all.

16. How does Bruce know so much about Thanos and the Infinity Stones, or that Thanos sent Loki? He knows what Thanos does. He knows that Thanos is after the Stones. How? No one tells him this stuff onscreen. Was there some mysterious conversation somewhere between Ragnarok and Infinity War where everyone shared all the information that they had? Wouldn’t they have been busy organizing the refugees in the ship/finding quarters for everyone/figuring out how to get food and water for the trip? You know, stuff that’d seem more immediately relevant?

17. How does Thor know that the Aether was on Knowhere? This is never discussed onscreen. I’m seriously suspecting that info-dump conversation. But still, why were they having an info-dump conversation? Wouldn’t the things mentioned in item 15 be more immediate concerns? It’s not like they all knew that they were about to need this information.

18. Thanos’s plan and “making sense”. No plot-hole list of IW would be complete without this. Thanos believes that there is too much life in the universe for its resources to sustain. For the sake of argument alone, I’ll assume that he’s correct for the duration of this point on the list. Thanos has decided that in order to save all life in the universe, he needs the Infinity Stones to “balance” the ratio of life to resources. Okay, that’s fairly logical. He can do anything with the Infinity Stones. Here comes the weird part. He decides that the only way to “balance” the universe is to kill half of all life...including (according to the Russos) plants and animals. AKA resources. Remember, he’s devoted decades at minimum to the development of this plan. And this is the best he can come up with. He’s got unlimited power. Couldn’t he use the Space and Reality Stones to move beings around to other planets with more resources? Couldn’t he use the Reality Stone to make more resources? No, gotta kill half the life he’s ‘trying to save’ and the resources they use as well. That doesn’t change the ratio at all. It doesn’t accomplish his stated goal.

19. Gamora. How does Gamora know what the Soul Stone is? The Collector had to explain Infinity Stones to her as well as the rest of the Guardians in GOTG Vol 1. So how would she know what the Soul Stone was, let alone where it was?

20. What exactly did Thanos do to the Zen-Whoberi (I think that’s how you spell Gamora’s species)? In IW, Thanos says that the remaining population of her planet is thriving. However, in GOTG Vol 1, it’s stated onscreen that Gamora’s the last of her species. Did Thanos kill all the Zen-Whoberi or half of them? If the latter, did the other half die off because—gasp!—his plan hadn’t worked on their planet? In that case, is Thanos just even more massively deluded than I previously thought, is he lying, or is it someone else who’s thriving on Gamora’s home-world?

21. How did Steve, Sam, and Nat wind up exactly where Wanda and Vision needed them to be? They’d moved quite a bit from their initial location during the fight with Proxima and Corvus. I know, I’m nitpicking, but still.

22. How does Nat, an unpowered but skilled human, manage to overpower Corvus Glaive, a member of the Black Order who’s presumably far stronger and also highly skilled? Yeah, she took him by surprise, but it shouldn’t have been easy at the very least.

23. Steve denying Vision the choice to sacrifice himself. As others have pointed out, Steve made a very similar decision back in CA:TFA. He chose to dive a plane into the ocean, which would—he thought—kill him, to save many lives. Now, Vision’s decided that Wanda should destroy the Mind Stone in his forehead, which would kill him, to save many more lives. Why is Steve denying Vision the ability to make the choice that he made himself? (Hint: It’s so they can have a cool-looking final battle to save Vision and then have him die anyway.)

24. Speaking of destroying the Mind Stone. Isn’t destroying Infinity Stones supposed to be impossible? This was another major point in TDW. Jane only came across the Aether (Reality Stone) in that movie because there was no way to destroy it and Bor had to settle for hiding it. Malekith gets the Aether because they still couldn’t destroy it. Infinity Stones are either indestructible or they’re not. Which is it?

25. “We don’t trade lives,” says Steve, right before he decides to trade hundreds if not thousands of Wakandan lives to save the life of his friend (who’d already decided that he wanted to sacrifice himself). Um, what?

26. T’Challa agreeing to risk his countrymen is iffy. He’s agreeing to send hundreds (if not thousands) or his people to their deaths to save one person with a lengthy, experimental procedure. And again, that one person has already voiced the opinion that they should just destroy the Mind Stone while they still can, whether it kills him or not. Wouldn’t T’Challa respect that decision, especially since it’s the one that saves the most lives?

27. When the Titan crew pins Thanos, why are they just trying to take the gauntlet off his hand? Tony at least has been in/witnessed (it’s been a while since I saw IM3) a fight that involved cutting off the villain’s hand. Wouldn’t he have thought of this during the planning stage? They could’ve stuck Thanos’ wrist through one of Dr. Strange’s portals and cut it off. No gauntlet, no snap.

28. How does Thor know to come to Wakanda? I get that he knows there are Infinity Stones on Earth. But last time he was on Earth, Vision was in New York, wasn’t he? How would he know that Vision was now in Wakanda? How would he know that the battle was there? Does Rocket have an Infinity Stone-sensing device? Why didn’t this come up?

29. Why did Thor go for Thanos’ chest? Thor generally goes for the head when he’s fighting. Except, of course, for this time. Why? Wouldn’t he want to make absolutely sure that Thanos was dead? (Besides so Thanos could win?)

30. If not the head, why didn’t Thor at least go for the gauntlet hand? In TDW his and Loki’s plan to deceive Malekith involved Loki pretending to cut Thor’s hand off so he couldn’t use his weapon. Wouldn’t Thor have some vague memory of the whole ‘if you remove your enemy’s weapon hand, they won’t be able to fight’ thing?

I guess it’s pretty obvious where I spent most of my time looking.

I’ve probably forgotten some, seeing as I watched this thing, what, one and a half times last year, when it came out and shortly afterwards. Any additions?

@lucianalight @lokiloveforever @philosopherking1887 @mastreworld

[heartwoodventures]

 Another member ready to take on the challenge of the Relics, the three made it out to the home of the weapons once again but this time to face a new challenge. After showing interest in the sword Nyscera agreed to come with to keep an eye on things. "Take care with this fight as it won't be easy from what I've witnessed." The blade floated beside her and with a flick of her wrist the Xaela sent it to the middle of the area. A bright light came from the blade and it started to take shape of a woman clad in armor, glowing blue eyes locked onto Khora and the spirit took hold of the blade and pointed it at the Seeker. "Do you wish to see your worth for my blade? Step forward challenger so that I may make judgement on your soul."

The Seeker's eyes were swiftly drawn toward the light that emanated from the blade.  Silver eyes briefly hid away as he adjusted to that shine, seeing the silhouette of the armor-clad figure take shape.  To their challenge did Khora manage a bit of a grin.  "I would like to think myself already worthy after having heard that incessant whispering but I'll have no problem taking it out on you."  Confident aura swirled about the Seeker as he drew his blade, and with a flick of his wrist  the fire shard embedded within the pommel ignited and coated the blade in an aura of flame.  "Bring it on!"  Khora continuing his cocky words as he stepped forward to present himself before the woman.

    The spirit eyed the Seeker while letting the tip of her blade screech against the stone ground, sparks shooting up while the blade itself started to glow and the longer she ran it across the ground the brighter it became. "At your ready then, challenger." With a flick of her blade against the ground did the blade burst with light before dimming again, using it as a sign that she was ready.

   

  Khora held his weapon to his side, holding steady in his stance as closely he examined his foe.  Up and down his eyes traced over the figure in an attempt to find some sort of opening.  With a hum did he begin to channel his aether through his weapon, flames growing in size only to be nearly extinguished as Khora hurled a ball of flame forward.  Concealed by his initial attack, the Seeker charged forth and followed close behind in an attempt to follow-up on the assault of flame.

       The flames swallowed the spirit and the moment Khora reached the sword-wielding woman did a bright light blast from her to cause the Miqo'te to fall back, the echoing sound of a blade shrieking against the ground would be heard for all to hear in the area. Twirling on her feet the spirit brought the blade over her head to slash down onto the Miqo'te in front of her as the light still shined brightly from the blade within her hand.

       It was safe to assume that Khora's initial plan of attack was unsuccessful - a thought that settled in his mind as he floated in the air on backward trajectory.  The Seeker grit his teeth with a groan once he crashed to the earth, stunned and unable to gather his bearings.  It was just as that sword came hurling downward that Khora was able to react.  He raised his sword and pressed his hand to the flat of the blade in an effort to deflect that strike, locking blades while struggling to keep it at bay.  His eyes danced in desperation, looking for an opening before settling with a firm to the apparations knee.

    Nazyl heard the sound from a malm away, and the flash of light was more than enough to direct him where to go. He wondered if any of the wailers would've seen that...did a star fall? Either way he rushed to the scene, finding a familiar cast of characters, "Ye coulda pearled me y'know."

"There was an attempt at calling but we hadn't heard anything back." Nyscera answered the lalafell before looking back to the fight in front of them, watching as Khora's foot collided with the spirit’s knee and an eerie screech hit their ears. With a balled-up fist did the spirit launch her armored fist at the Miqo'tes face.

Nazyl Tharazyl huffed, "Musta been intahference..." He flinched at the screech...that hit was gonna hurt, it looked like.

 . The Seeker bared his teeth in victory as the spectre's screeches filled the air, boasting with confident snicker while beginning to rise to his feet.  It was a triumph quickly put to an end with a fist hurled downward to strike the Seeker square in his face and knocking him right back to the ground.  Weary groans flowed from his lips as an attempt to open his eyes lent him nothing but multiple spectres with vague outlines.  "Wha-?"  A hand rising to his head, Khora used the other to blind swipe his weapon to strike at each of the multiple figures before him.

   His attempts to hit his target with wild swings was a success, his blade would collide with the spirit's arm and a 'clink' was heard as it sunk through the arm and nearly cut it off. It was a gross sight to see a limb just hanging by a few threads of flesh and the metal that was still connected. Stabbing her blade into the ground the blade gave off a brilliant light, giving the spirit time to rip off the rest of her arm and smack Khora with it. Anything can be a weapon.

"...I think he hit it so hard it lapsed in logic." Nazyl said while watching the scene in front of hi.

   

      Steadily did Khora's vision become lucid, those floating images merging to form but one singlular spectre.  Before it could retaliate Khora made sure to get himself from the ground and put some distance between them.  He readied himself and watched his opponent only to stare on his disbelief as the blasted being tore its arm right off.  "Really...?" Khora's ears flattening over his head as the spectre charged at him with 'weapon' in hand.  The Seeker raised his arms in defense holding them against each other in an effort to block the swats of the spectre's arm.  "Back off!" The Seeker's voice boomed.  An explosion bursting outward from around his body and extinguishing fully the flame that once danced about his sword's blade.

     The flames swirled around the spirit and all that could be seen were the glowing blue eyes within the flames, they seemed to stick to the spirit as the flaming arm was sent towards the male Seeker, dashing back to her blade the armored woman charged towards Khora but in the last moment sidestepped to miss him and went straight for another. Zorah.

Nazyl Tharazyl instinctively reached for his shield...and stopped. This was the other man's trial, to see if he was worthy of the blade. He'd have to be the one to do it.

  Khora's brow raised as the Spirit came hurling toward him was the dismembered arm of the spectre.  "What in the seven-  Ack!"  It collided square against his face, stunning him and sending a disgusted shudder down his spine as his body quivered to the thought. What sort of barbarian would do such a thing?  The arm handed within his forearm, burning under the flames of his own aether and holding his attention for but just long enough that he had not even noticed  the spectre making its way toward Zorah.  "Hey!"  Immediately did his ears stand over his head, Khora making for the woman at breakneck pace.  Drawing near enough, the Seeker drew back the spectre's arm only to bring it forth and strike at their helmet with oh-so-satisfying a slap.  "Stop hitting yourself cheater!”

 Zorah had been watching the scene before her intently, ears flattened as the other moved toward Khora.  That last moment, however, she hadn't seen coming either.  Zorah had fumbled back, a slow response to prepare defending herself until Khora had intervened.  She pressed her lips, slowly regaining her posture... and attempting not to laugh.

Nazyl wondered how this man got through the day.

The Spirit stopped in her tracks as she felt something clunk against her, turning from Zorah and just stood there as Khora smacked her over and over again with her own arm, was that a smile on the spirits face? Instead of a scream of pain leaving the spirits body but a loud laughter boomed throughout the area. "I like this one! One that uses fire and is a ball of fire himself!" Stabbing the blade into the ground. The woman used her free hand to place it on top of Khora's head like a mother would to calm a child. "At ease, little flame, you're worthy for my blade." There was a large smile on her face as she stared down at the Miqo'te. "Use that flame within you to keep those safe and keep making those around you smile."

  Each attempt to strike at the spectre dulled as what sounded like laughter began to emanate from the spectres' voice.  The Seeker stood awkward, holding to that arm as if he were ready to hit them again but did not.  It was safe to say that he was confused at this point.  "Huh?" Khora making his confusion known as the spectre shared their interest in him.  His shoulders tensed to th eir touch upon his head, hears flinching before standing on end with tail curled upward. "Uh...  Oh..."  The Seeker let his head fall forward with an awkward bow as still the situation had caught him off-guard.  "Th-thank you.  I will do what I can and if that is not enough then I will try even harder."

     The woman gave one last pat to Khora's head before her entire being started to crack like glass, bursting into a million shards that seem to fall to the ground like snow and all that was left behind was the sword the woman once used to help defend those that needed it. "Seems I should give G'lewra a warning in advance that those who do these challenges will be coming home with a head injury." The Xaela spoke up from her spot as she had stayed quiet during the whole event.

Nazyl could hardly believe what he was seeing. A man just beat a fighter's spirit into submission with its own arm, making him worthy of her weapon. He declined to comment on the 'head injury', "By the Twelve...Well, I can be certain now that the spirits ain't malevolent."

   Those final moments were slow to make sense in the Seeker's mind but gradually it all started to make sense.  WIth the spectre gone, there was nothing left for him to do but take up that blade she left in her wake.  Khora sheathed his own weapon, taking one step forward to reach and take that blade from the ground.  Oddly enough he still expected to hear those whispers, to feel the burn in his palm but neither began.  Triumphant grin spread  upon his lips as a motion of his arm saw the slash at the air before him.  "Zorah!"  He let out with his gaze darted in her direction, sharing wide and toothy grin. "I did it!"

 "Somehow, ye did it." I guess that means there's onleh two left ta purify." The Lalafell spoke up.

  "One, Syl purified the dagger earlier this morning, Haila was there for that one." Nyscera hummed in thought for a moment. "So all that's left is the staff but no one has come forth to make a claim to it."

  Zorah clapped her hands together, making her way over to Khora.  "You did! I'm proud of you!" She reached out to hug him with a grin spread from ear to ear.

"Oh? Huh, musta missed it. Well, staves aren't somethin' I can use...n' frankleh, I still don't wanna touch it. Best elave that ta an actual mage I think.I can...onleh imagine how weird the daggah purification was."

 "Well an arm wasn't used in battle I can tell you that much." Nyscera joked.

  Free arm delve to wrap about Zorah's waist, returning that hug with firm embrace while letting Khora's lips touch to her forehead with a peck of a kiss.  "Actually thinking on it, I do not think we have anyone that uses staves proper back at Heartwood..."

 "I'd hope not, else I'd start thinkin' these spirits ain't all that."

 "I only know of one mage and that would be my brother but fire magic is not something he uses with mag" The Xaela shrugged.

Khora's shoulders trickled to a soft hint of laughter.  "If it was maybe six months earlier I would vy for that rather that what I have now."

Nazyl thought back a moment. His 'other' had used both sword and staff, and was considered the strongest of the magi that had given him and his friends so much trouble. Could he...? But he couldn't wield aether, it'd be impossible to properly use the staff as it was. He shook his head of the thought. "Sounds like ye need ta start recruitin' some pointeh hats."

[dragons-bones]

5 Questions for Writers

Tagged by: @frostmantle (thank you!)

Tagging: @ishgard, @starsandauras, @twelveswood, @autumnslance, aaaaaaand YOU (because I cannot keep track of who’s done this or not XD)

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

----

Cut for length!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

I am, of course, obviously quite fond of snarky, quick-witted characters, and my OCs banter a lot. Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write, so chatty characters in general I find easier to approach. It’s fun slinging sass back and forth! (This tends to be why I focus a lot of Synnove and Rereha most often--they’re the snark queens of the Squad and the most likely to turn the sarcasm filter off and just go off on someone. Which further reminds me I need to have Thancred and Rereha trading jabs, too, at some point...)

I’ve also really been enjoying writing Aymeric specifically, even if it is intimidating to do so at times. I obviously headcanon him as ridiculously smitten with Synnove (the feeling, of course, is mutual), and finding the right balance of “deeply in love with a Warrior of Light” without it coming off as overly saccharine or out of character is a great mental exercise. Also of course I enjoy indulging my personal fantasy of having a handsome man be a badass, deeply in love with his lady, and perfectly delighted to kick ass beside his lady!

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

Food porn. My mother’s Italian, I grew up being taught to enjoy food, I love sharing my enjoyment of food. Plus it’s usually accompanying some happier moments, or domestic ones, and is basically a cue to the readers that the story is meant to be light and fun.

I have no idea what the proper trope name would be (and going to TV Tropes to asking to start a rabbit hole dive I shouldn’t begin), but as we all know, I love Shenanigans. I typically write them in reaction to how serious the setting is; I deeply enjoy stretching how far I insert some humor and levity without it becoming crack. I think it provides some fresh air; I enjoy angst and hurt/comfort and dark themes, but frequently it’s not something I prefer to write for myself.

I also enjoy found family, battle couples, magic-as-science... Anything that gives me an excuse to write character interactions and/or worldbuild. The great fun of fanfiction, particularly in a setting like FFXIV, is that we’ve got a bare bones foundation, with some areas more developed than others, but otherwise there is a ton of room to grow my own ideas. I personally like to work within lore, but it is hugely enjoyable for me to figure out how to get certain concepts to work with the lore rather than against it. (See: my approach to arcanima.)

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

This obviously changes all the time, but there’s a couple I really love:

From Pearls of Wisdom:

It was one of the most basic principles of magic, not just arcanima: astral elements and umbral elements. It was such an accepted, unquestioned foundation that she had never even considered that the three elements most commonly used by arcanists for their carbuncles were not all the same primary polarity. Every element could manifest as either polarity, but Roksana Blackspark was correct, now that Synnove properly thought about it: wind, earth, and fire were much, much more likely to be found in a stable state. Even the Guild’s enormous aether batteries, all the way down in subbasement twelve, had been initially tricky to install until they found the right combination of overgrown elemental clusters, with most of the problems coming from the water, ice, and levin clusters.

Of course trying to infuse any sort of gem with those three elements specifically was going to fail, they were fucking overaspected to astral or umbral. The equations didn’t fucking work as they should because they were built to account for elements that naturally occurred in stable states, and so the infusions fizzled and the gemstones cracked and no carbuncles could manifest.

But.

But if she did account for instability, or, in fact, deliberately found crystals with which to infuse gems that were of opposite polarities so that the final infusion was stable…

A new thought made itself known, and Synnove stuffed the rest of her cake in her mouth, set the plate and fork aside, bookmarked her spot in the journal, and opened up the note taking program, yanking the stylus from the side of the case. As she chewed, she began scribbling in frantic shorthand. Perhaps in addition to ensuring stable aetheric polarity, she could also try infusion over time as well? Even when artificially infusing emeralds, topazes, and rubies, the stones still cracked every one time out of eight. Certainly, working with water, levin, and ice aether would benefit from a slower infusion speed, as it would allow her to keep a better eye on maintaining polar equilibrium, and if that issue was what was affecting the failures for wind, earth, and fire, then that would be two problems solved.

…Perhaps three, Synnove sucking in a deep breath and her heart pounding as she wrote. A proper balance of aetheric polarization combined with a slow enough infusion potentially meant that she could, theoretically, infuse any precious stone she desired, not just ones with a specific hardness and durability. Of course, the equations would need to be further adjusted to take into account the specific chemical properties of the specific gems and how they would need to interact with different elemental aether, but that, while difficult and tedious, was still doable.

Writing characters smarter than oneself is really difficult and intimidating, but I think I did a really good job showing Synnove’s thought process, and based on some of the feedback I’ve gotten, I succeeded! So I’m really, really proud of this passage.

From Suffer, Promise, Witness (FFXIV Write 2019 #19):

The ground shook, suddenly, and Synnove whipped her head around to the direction from which it originated, staring in shock. In the distance, an enormous red…key, for lack of a better term, pulsing with blue aetherlight, had struck the ground. The dust cloud kicked up rose immediately into the air and began obscuring it, and even from here she could see that the force of the strike had knocked down allies and foes alike around it.

Then a roar of sound—a deep, resonant thunder of triumphant, all-consuming rage—engulfed Carteneau, drawing every eye skyward, to see Dalamud’s outer shell, glowing with more of that sickly blue aetherlight, cracking open.

And Dalamud exploded.

The shockwave hit her first, throwing her and every other living being on the Plains still alive and standing to the ground with a force that punched the air from her lungs. The sound came next, shaking her bones and cracking the stone around her in an awful crescendo of combusting, howling aether. Her ears rang—or maybe it was just the screams of terror from every damned soul on the Carteneau killing fields all blending together.

The sky was aflame, and then the first of the pieces of Dalamud impacted the ground. Molten earth flew into the air, and then again from another impact, and another, and another, until the heavens and the earth were indistinguishable from how they both burned. Synnove desperately tried to sit up, feet scrambling to find purchase on the broken ground, as Galette and Tyr converged on her, eyes wide with fear as they tugged and pushed on her to get her upright.

Honestly I love this whole piece, but trying to describe what’s basically a trailer from another perspective (while also trying to portray the passage of time in an accurate manner) was difficult. I’d been dying to write the Synnove at Carteneau piece for a long time, and I just let myself write without worry. I think it came out pretty well! (Everyone screaming at me after the fact certainly boosted my confidence. :D)

From Assessments (FFXIV Write 2017 #25)

He did not attempt to step softly, as it was always a poor idea to sneak up on any warrior, never mind a Warrior of Light, but apparently Synnove was deeply enough engrossed in her text to not register his approach. Tyr, however, looked over as soon as he noticed the loud clacking of boot heels on stone floor coming closer to his mistress. He perked his ears up and came to meet Aymeric, shoving his face into the elezen’s hands.

“Maow!” the topaz carbuncle said, deep and echoing like a brass bell, only a little bone-rattling.

Aymeric laughed softly and obliging scratched behind his ears. Tyr thrummed happily, enjoying the attention for a few moments, before he disengaged and went back to Synnove. He braced himself on the rungs of the ladder and reached up with his paw to tap her foot, chirruping quietly.

“Hmm? Whazzit, honey?” Synnove said, voice distant and distracted. She did not look up as she turned the page.

Tyr sat back on his haunches and said, “Maow!”

Aymeric hadn’t the faintest idea of what Tyr had said, but Synnove most certainly did, as her head jerked up in surprise. (He winced sympathetically; when she had straightened, her spine had made an awful crack.) She frantically looked around until her gaze settled on Aymeric. She blinked rapidly, quite obviously not yet comprehending what she was seeing, until a smile finally bloomed across her features, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, fancy meeting you here,” she said, her cheerfulness tempered by the slight slur of exhaustion in her voice.

There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair was obviously unkempt up close, and her fingers were ever-so-slightly shaking from the particular combination of too much caffeine and not enough sleep, but Synnove Greywolfe was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Aymeric grinned up at her, not bothering to disguise how besotted he was with no witnesses about to see, and said, “What brings one of the celebrated Warriors of Light to Ishgard a bell before midnight?” He took a few steps closer to the ladder and held out his arms.

Synnove winced as she closed and shelved the book she had been reading. “Thal’s balls, that late?” She slid to the edge of the ladder’s seat, pushed off with her right hand and foot, and unceremoniously dropped into his grasp.

He tightened his hold on her as he caught her, drawing her close, and he dropped a kiss on each of her eyelids, relishing the giggles the action elicited from her. Another kiss on her nose, one to the beauty mark at the side of her chin, and then he finally kissed her properly. Synnove, in turn, languidly draped her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck, practically purring as she did. He hummed appreciatively against her lips, and they both ended up laughing into the kiss.

(Next to them, Tyr sighed, and rolled his eyes.)

Aymeric reluctantly drew away and set her on her feet, keeping Synnove steady as she wobbled and her spine cracked yet again. His beloved immediately leaned back into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and slouching so her cheek could rest over his heart. He smiled and returned the hug, resting his chin on her head. He closed his eyes and swayed with her gently, enjoying the familiar and much-missed comfort of her presence.

An older bit, but I love these two goobers, and I love writing them being physically affectionate and just basking in each other. Fucking cuties.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

FUCK I HAVE TO CHOOSE. Okay, let’s start with Pearls of Wisdom again:

Rereha threw open the doors to Aymeric’s office, shite-eating grin firmly plastered on her face as she skipped inside, and sang out, “Congratulations! It’s twins!”

Two things happened.

First, as soon as the doors opened, but before Rereha even opened her mouth, Lucia, she of finely honed Frumentarium instincts and years of friendship with a lalafell infamous across the realm for her Theatrics and Shenanigans, reached out and yanked the multitude of reports on the desk in front of Aymeric out of the way.

Second, Aymeric, who had been taking a sip of tea at the exact moment Rereha entered the office, choked and spat out said tea across his desk—and where all of the paperwork had once been not even a second before—in the most glorious spit take Rereha had ever engendered. A tiny part of her was saddened at the waste of perfectly good tea, but, wow, that had been spectacular. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and came to a stop in the middle of the office, grin widening to manic levels.

Lucia pounded Aymeric on the back between his shoulder blades as he coughed and sputtered, stopping only when the Lord Commander wheezed out, wide-eyed, voice high-pitched and halfway to a full-blown panic, “WHAT?!”

THREE YEARS THIS LIVED IN MY HEAD. THREE FUCKING YEARS I HAVE WANTED TO WRITE THIS STORY AND BEGIN IT WITH THAT LINE. THREE YEARS AND IT’S FINALLY OUT IN THE WORLD AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

From Needling (FFXIV Write 2019 #17):

Merlwyb drained her cup dry and poured herself a fresh serving (no whiskey this time, however). Grudgingly, she filled a second, and slid it over to Synnove, along with the bowl of maple sugar cubes and jar of cream. The arcanist doctored her tea as she preferred it—three lumps, generous dash of cream—and took a luxurious sip, humming in satisfaction.

“Why are you here?” the Admiral finally said, tea cup in hand and elbows braced on her desk. She wedged her feet a little firmer beneath Tyr.

“Mmmm, we had to bodily force Thubyrgeim to take a vacation,” said Synnove. She took another slow sip of tea. “Accounting realized she hadn’t taken a proper one in nigh on three years. So, we kicked her out of the Gate, with the caveat that she wasn’t to come back until next moon, and then we divvied up her usual responsibilities among the lot of us. I volunteered for the pleasure and delight of taking over our dear Guildmistress’s sennightly meetings with you.” Here the woman batted her eyelashes.

Merlwyb eyed her. “You have an ulterior motive,” she said, enunciating clearly for emphasis. “You always have an ulterior motive.”

“I enjoy the faces you make when you are confronted with the stark reality that every single one of your arcanists is capable of rewriting the laws of creation but are, simultaneously, godsdamned lunatics who should be taken out back and shot.”

“I should start with you.”

“Start with aetherochemistry; they just invented a new plague.” Synnove took the top folder from the pile and slid it across the desk to the Admiral.

“Of course they bloody did,” Merlwyb growled, opening the folder and skimming the abstract on the first page. Dear gods, did they really decide to mix malaria and consumption? Always so busy wondering if they could they never bothered to consider if they should. She plucked her reading glasses from their usual spot, sliding them on as she turned the page to the formal report, written in the aetherochemistry department chair’s tiny, cramped hand. Absently, she said, “And no, we are not testing it on the faculty of the University of Radz-at-Han.”

Synnove pouted. For the first time that afternoon, Merlwyb cracked a grin.

Merlwyb doesn’t get enough love, in my opinion, and of course I imagine she’s a salty bitch underneath the cool, commanding exterior. Couple that with Synnove probably letting loose the Full Sass (she would never behave such with Raubahn, Nanamo, or Kan-E, but she’s been an assessor for fifteen years, she knows exactly how far she can poke the Admiral and is well aware it’s tolerated only because she’s been an arcanist for so long) and the “out back and shot” line is my single favorite sentence from the whole of FFXIV Write 2019, and this is my favorite character exchange that’s I’ve done in a long time.

From Of Taunting and Tales (FFXIV Write 2019 #25)

Knock knock a-knock—knockknock! “Guess who~.”

A loud groan answered her. “Go away, you debauched scandalmonger!”

Rereha poked her head into one of the private rooms of the Rhalgr’s Reach infirmary, wicked grin firmly in place. “Now, now, Mr. Scaeva, is that any way to speak to the lady come to relieve your unending boredom?” she drawled.

The former tribunus laticlavius of the XIVth Imperial Legion raised his arm, hand up and middle finger extended, without lifting his head from his pillow.

Rereha cackled and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. A disgusted sigh came from Nero’s direction, and he flopped his arm back down on the mattress with a characteristically overdramatic wave of his hand. She grabbed a chair sitting by the wall and dragged it behind her as she waltzed towards Nero’s bed, the wood shrieking angrily against the stone of the floor, and whistled a cheery little ditty deliberately out of tune. She could see his jaw clenched in annoyance as she set the chair up near the head of the bed and cackled again as she hopped up into it. She placed the book she had been carrying on her lap and folded her hands primly on top of it, beaming.

“How are we feeling today?” she chirped.

“Like I’ve been run over by a flock of rabid chocobos.” Nero stubbornly refused to open his eyes, instead folding his hands on his stomach in unknowing mirror of her. “And then sat upon by a buffalo.”

“That’s an improvement! Last time you said you felt like you’d been chewed and spat out by an enraged king behemoth!”

“Rereha,” he sighed, still not opening his eyes. “Why are you here? Garlond and Greywolfe are infinitely more stimulating conversationalists, for all their damned sanctimonious self-important morals and ethics.” He spat out the last word like it was a particularly loathsome curse.

“I’m hurt, Nero,” said Rereha, placing her hand on her heart. She pitched her voice to express layers of emotion: disappointment, regret, sadness. “Genuinely hurt. A friend of mine has been grievously wounded in the course of his attempts to safeguard not just Eorzea, but Hydaelyn as a whole from an interdimensional entity of vast and unfathomable power. I come in my spare time to bring some light and laughter to his dreary hospital room as he heals, and he insults me and wishes for the company of others.”

A long silence descended over them both. Finally, Nero arched one golden eyebrow and cracked an eye open to stare at her incredulously.

Rereha pursed her lips together and said pensively, “Laid it on a bit too thick, didn’t I?”

He raised his hand and held his forefinger and thumb a quarter of an ilm apart.

“Damn,” Rereha said, crossing her arms. “Ah, well.”

Rereha basically exists to let me write Sass and Irreverent Humor. Nero is full of Salt and Sass. Together they could flay someone with words alone. I also really enjoyed writing Nero being a sassmaster without using words. Wordless dialogue is fun!! :D

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

One day I’m gonna get over my hesitation about writing (and sharing) smut and fucking write the first time Synnove and Aymeric had sex. I know exactly when and where and how.

...Also Synnove getting ravished in one of the Neo-Ishgardian dresses. That’s, like, second on the list. Ooohh, and the Vacation Fic; maybe I should write that one as scenes and worry about connecting them after the fact. I think because that one will require chapters and I’m more of a one-shot person is a reason I have yet to start it.

[illegiblewords]

Eclipse

Nabriales cannot sense aether to the degree that his Unsundered brethren can. It is but one of the many ways he falls short.

He tried to convince himself, for a time, that he’d been happy before his reminder. Before being raised back to the grace of Lord Zodiark. Being made aware of all that was missing.

A phantom pain he hadn’t been conscious of previously. The realization in hindsight not only that something was lost but the shape it should have held. Senses stolen. A limb severed.

The heart that has yet to beat again.

He aches every day to feel, to move the pieces of him that are absent. And in their absence his early memories have grown hollow and bitter.

A fool’s life.

He cannot see or speak to sundered beings like they matter. Like they share anything in kind. They are only what he once was, what he has learned to despise.

No, he cannot sense aether as the Unsundered can.

But Nabriales knows to pay attention, to snap at opportunity like the dog they consider him. To hunt, to be silent, and to strike.

***

When Lahabrea falls into their shelter on the shores of the Lifestream, Nabriales hears him. Starless skies and gray, barren earth. A horizon that seems to stretch in all directions.

He goes. He offers no aid and keeps his presence hidden.

Emet-Selch may yet sleep, oblivious. As is his wont. Still, if one such as he heard then it is only a matter of time before the Emissary arrives.

And oh, how Lahabrea suffers while he waits. It is clear to see the places light has shorn holes through his aether. Were he any weaker it would not matter that he remains unbroken—he’d have shattered just the same. Ascians may cast no shadows but my, do they bleed from the Speaker now.

Lahabrea does not stir to raise himself. From the way his essence flickers on occasion—fast and frantic and straining beyond itself—Nabriales presumes he fades into awareness at points. Then it subsides, and the darkness slips a little farther, and the wounds gape for its absence.

An ordeal in scant more than a few minutes, but then time does stretch for those in misery.

***

They tried, in the beginning, to explain. The three who’d escaped Hydaelyn unscathed. Amaurot the beautiful, Amaurot the dead. Their failed, fallen city. What must come to breathe again at any cost.

Privately, Nabriales could not give a damn. How should he? These were empty words and abstract notions. Zodiark, on the other hand, showed sympathy for how his own soul had been butchered. Revealed the glory he had been, once, and should become again. The disfigurement of the world itself.

Zodiark wanted to help them. Zodiark wanted to raise them in glory.

The Unsundered wanted lackeys.

This had been clear from the start, in the division between their ranks. Elite Ascians would lean on one another, confide in one another. Shield weaknesses and mistakes from sight. To those below they delivered orders and listened patiently without so much as an onze of trust. Igeyorhm, certain now that her own misstep was caused by a fractured soul, guaranteed as much.

For each of his own successes, Nabriales burns with the knowledge that his natural form would be many times as great. That he has been dulled and diminished. The irreverence he receives is nothing he can correct in this iteration.

And so he obeys not for them, but the one true god.

***

Elidibus steps from a plume like tar, the white of his robes an insult to their surroundings.

His attention is on Lahabrea and Lahabrea only. Whether this oversight is due to distraction or Nabriales’ skill is impossible to say. Good fortune, regardless.

Elidibus wastes no words, races to his fallen colleague and kneels. Hesitates, gloved hands hovering. Seemingly concerned that moving the man might exacerbate his injuries.

He makes contact. Begins his own rare and complex process of healing.

Slowly, agonizingly, what shadows had pooled like ichor around Lahabrea begin to retract. To patch what had been pierced, little by little.

Eventually a gasp, torn and ugly, interrupts the silence.

One black glove, slick with himself, clutches at Elidibus’ forearm.

Frail. Pathetic. Unworthy. Nabriales finds his lips curling in disgust as Lahabrea struggles to find his breath on the ground.

Like a mortal.

“How did this happen?” demands Elidibus, unwavering in ministrations though his voice remains flat and hard.

Lahabrea coughs. Lifts his head. “Hydaelyn,” he rasps. Then, “Weak, in… inexcusable. My doing.“

Ah, so he’s aware after all.

But Elidibus catches Lahabrea’s jaw sharply, draws his gaze up. “He,” says the Emissary, “would not have you regard yourself thus. Only learn.”

The Speaker’s grip is tight. Despite distance, Nabriales notes his trembling reaches Elidibus’ shoulder.

“Whose fault,” says Lahabrea, a raw edge to his words, “would this be if not… if not my own? It should have worked, I had… I had…”

A sigh as Elidibus leans his brow gently, carefully, against the wounded man’s.

Lingers there.

For a time, neither of them says anything. Nabriales finds himself stunned by both the gesture and an innate understanding that it remains beyond what he will ever receive.

“We are all of us,” says Elidibus in a tone that brooks no argument, “instruments of Zodiark. You know better than most what His strength entails.”

Slowly, Lahabrea’s grip begins to loosen.

“The Ardor,” Elidibus continues more quietly, “is not yours alone. Be at peace.”

Another moment passes. After a brief fumble, Lahabrea’s hand slides free. What tension remains to signify consciousness soon follows.

It is with great care then that the Emissary shifts him onto his back. Gathers his colleague in arms and stands. Exits through a corridor once more.

Following some moments spent with his own silent reflection, Nabriales departs as well.

***

All the world knows when Allag’s eikons start to wake.

Scarce days from his retrieval, Lahabrea summons the Sundered in prayer and praise to Zodiark.

All of them present save Emet-Selch and Elidibus. It is a show, Nabriales understands now, meant to impress the little puppets who aspire to be like him. To soothe his own ego. Something his friends would catch in an instant.

But he does love Zodiark, and perhaps the god has seen fit to reward his observance with further insight.

So Nabriales attends to play his role with solemn grace and watchful eye.

Half-mended aether. Absent smile despite the news. Slow, careful movements in this dark chamber with its stone floors and unadorned columns.

No, Lahabrea has not forgotten at all.

***

It ends at Elidibus’ untimely arrival.

“Lord Zodiark,” he says, so smoothly that were he not searching for it that the anger would be undetectable, “appreciates your attentions.”  His gaze does not waver from Lahabrea as he speaks. “But there is work to be done and I’m afraid there are words I would have with your Speaker.”

They disperse.

Nabriales, careful and curious, folds himself out of sight beyond the chamber then makes his way back to its edge.

Lahabrea, farthest from the exit, attempts to steal some small dignity. Turns to face Elidibus.

The Emissary makes him wait. Expressionless red masks matched by those who wear them.

Then, with more speed and force than typical for his demeanor, the Emissary closes distance to trap his colleague against the wall.

“It was my error,” hisses Elidibus, leaning in, “to have stayed silent upon rescuing you. A mistake I will remedy now, so we can be on no uncertain terms.”

Lahabrea lowers his eyes. Nabriales notes that despite the dread they all share of such reprimands, the man does not brace.

“You know as well as I that these words offer less succor to our Lord than action,” continues Elidibus, his fury quiet and no less sharp for that, “just as we both know your thoughtless action is the cause of repeated missteps these past centuries. Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.”

Silence.

“Do you truly think this is your best service to Him?” asks Elidibus. “To us? Compromising your ability to fill the hours? Even Emet-Selch agrees these displays are disgraceful. You have ever borne them poorly, but being a 'paragon among paragons' naturally you continue ignoring your own better judgment with ours to continue this exercise in futility. Idiot.”

A twitch of the head. Almost a flinch.

It is one of few moments Nabriales has seen the Emissary express his anger so openly. Even after the Thirteenth fell to Igeyorhm’s error, Elidibus allowed the Angel of Truth to lead and voiced his own reproach with a more typical icy demeanor. Scathing though it was.

“I can be of use,” says Lahabrea softly. “Only three of us remain, and I—“

“You,” Elidibus snaps, “cannot follow the most simple instructions for the good of us all. Not for Him, not for Amaurot, not even for yourself. Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.”

Neither man speaks for several moments after that.

And then, at length, Elidibus exhales.

Says the Speaker’s name.

Receives his attention.

“What would you have me do?” the Emissary asks. His tone now is almost weary. “Clearly it would be unreasonable to trust you’d simply listen. Must I mind you like a child?” This is what breaks Lahabrea’s composure.

Knowing the man’s temper, Nabriales had expected him to lash out. Even on the back foot their orator is perfectly capable of defending himself from insults.

Instead, he embraces Elidibus fiercely—face just within the bounds of his pauldrons. Jaw locked shut firmly enough to hurt. Expression downcast.

Elidibus remains perfectly still at first. In the absence of conversation it is possible to hear the rush of Lahabrea’s breathing. Only through the nose, withheld briefly between each inhale as if that offers some means to steady himself.

As if that would make it better.

Tentatively, Elidibus holds him back. Lahabrea's fingers contract, and though he remains upright when his knees begin to give it is the Emissary who helps him kneel.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and Lahabrea removes one hand to run it reflexively over his face—coming against the mask.

Nabriales finds himself staring, searching. A puzzle with missing pieces whose image he may yet divine

“It was not,” says Lahabrea roughly, “my intention to…”

Elidibus reaches beneath the other man’s cowl, finds the hair and skin beneath. Draws him in once more.

Naught that would be shared with or among the Sundered. Nothing so personal as that.

Nabriales has worn his own share of flesh. Bedded lovers, adopted companions and families of vessels to fulfill a purpose. Passable enough, perhaps, but never for him. Not in truth.

It’s as if he looks upon two strangers.

***

Afterward and alone, Nabriales offers his own prayer.

It is neither a request, nor a demand, nor an offering.

Only a promise.

Before His likeness, again and again through clenched teeth, he swears he will prove himself the worthier servant. Nabriales will not remain broken forever.

Despite his shattered form, the blurring and burning of his vision under a mask inherited rather than earned, Nabriales tells himself that indifference is a strength. To halt time, to summon the heavens themselves—before all this, he might have set this world right alone. Instead, crippled as She left him, he can only watch as his brothers-in-arms sabotage them all through sentiment.

Fragile, desperate creatures that they are.

How useless. Useless to Zodiark and to their situation and even so he…

For millenia, they made him doubt.

***

It seems Lahabrea has acquiesced to Elidibus’ demands. While he licks wounds dealt by Hydaelyn, the Speaker turns to the Sundered. Delegates.

Naturally, Nabriales volunteers for this position.

How better to begin than by succeeding where the unbroken could not?

***

Lahabrea is frustrated as he’s ever seen him. Confined to a sickbed, bereft of stationary projects. The Emissary has effectively limited his activity to sleep and amusements. This by itself might have been entertaining, but the man insists on dragging him into the same foul mood. Their briefing includes far more detail than could conceivably matter. Worse, Lahabrea questions him afterward to ensure naught has been missed.

Insufferable.

They are both glad to be rid of each other in the end. Even so, this does not prevent Lahabrea from calling him as he prepares to leave.

“What now?” says Nabriales, no longer bothering to mask his impatience.

Any humor at seeing the Speaker stripped of regalia has faded. Though the mask remains in place, being ordered about by this sandy-haired wreck in bedclothes has lost its charm. He likes not the notion of being instructed by such a dull figure. The chamber itself, outfitted by Elidibus in stone combinations of brown, gray, and gold, proves far more ornate than its occupant.

Lahabrea’s lips thin. When he continues, it is with a note of severity.

“See to it you don’t engage Her champion. Nor any associated parties, for that matter. It can be tempting to underestimate them but…” he trails off a moment. Choosing his words. “…they are not unpracticed.”

Nabriales smiles with his teeth. “Fear not for me, Lahabrea. I assure you that my track record is quite sound.”

And thus he departs.

***

The tasks are straightforward in themselves. Instruct beastfolk to transcend the mortal coil. Observe Hydaelyn’s chosen. Follow developments with the Isle of Val. Escalate primal summons as crystals permit.

Naught particularly taxing alone, his duties prove time consuming and numerous. Despite himself, Nabriales sees how one could become lost in the pile. His greatest obstacle, however, is that the Scions appear to have eyes and ears in every imaginable place. And they do so delight in thwarting his efforts.

Like tying a boot only to have imps undo it again the moment you’ve stood upright. Endearing at first, but this quickly shifts to exasperation and finally to true annoyance.

Killing them would be the efficient path. Alas, he has orders. Evidently Elidibus has intentions for their number as well. Nabriales does not mean to make himself a target for the man’s frustration, whatever other opinions he holds.

So for now, his performance is careful. Meticulous.

Obedient.

***

He wonders what a complete Warrior might have been.

He wonders if she would continue her course, knowing how she’d been cheated.

The Echo locks her mind shut.

Sadly, she will remain distant to him as any other.

***

In the wake of Ramuh and Leviathan, Elidibus calls them to the Chrysalis.

Once more, an Unsundered seeks lesser members of their order. Emet-Selch slumbers still. Lahabrea, over a month reprimanded, adheres to his recovery.

What intel they’ve gathered proves sound. The Warrior’s strength has reached worrisome proportions, of that there can be no doubt. She gorges, swells with the gifts of her mistress. Elidibus, however, argues such power costs the enemy dear. Hydaelyn lacks sufficient aether for these feats. In each successful Calamity, the dominion of Zodiark waxes toward completion. Those sundered inhabitants (rife though they are with potential) remain exhausted and wanting by comparison.

The end, he tells them, is in sight. Perhaps this is even true.

Perhaps it is only what he needs to hear.

And this is when Lahabrea can bear it no longer.

He takes his place, late but listening. His expression proves empty of typical bravado.

Though he proclaims to the room that this mission is why efforts must be ceaseless, his eyes remain fixed on the Emissary.

Elidibus, unimpressed, waits.

“Divine seeds were ever wont to quicken in Eorzea’s fertile soil,” the Speaker continues more quietly. “We need only lead men to the field, and by their eager hands shall a new deity arise.”

Although not quite an apology or an excuse, his justification nonetheless carries earmarks of both.

Duly shamed.

Whether Elidibus is moved by faith or pity is impossible to tell.

He is permitted to stay.

***

Though Lahabrea’s limitations have been reduced, he does remain barred from field. Both he and Nabriales were present for that conversation.

Throughout, the Speaker’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. Fingers flexing lightly. Reminding himself not to form a fist.

It was almost amusing. Might have been, once, had he not known Elidibus’ motive.

Nabriales continues in his function of errand boy either way.

***

Conflict escalates between the Warrior and Ysayle Dangoulin. The elezen who calls herself “Iceheart”.

Another of Hydaelyn’s disciples. Another possessed of Echo and Blessing both… though she lacks knowledge or inclination to fight Ascians.

Convenient.

Nabriales has, under the curt orders of Lahabrea, been urging her toward a unique aetherial experiment. Take advantage of the very qualities that allow her freedom from primals and shape her soul into one. Sacrifice to herself.

Ysayle, it seems, is not the issue. As tensions between her and Eorzea’s champion reach a head she plays her part to perfection. Survives, even. And (as Lahabrea hoped) she is not consumed in her own ritual but simply reverts at its close.

Admittedly, they are stunning together. Hardly the worst subjects to observe. Each tall and fair haired as per his preference. One, moonlight pale. The other hued in gold. Ysayle sheds her common beauty for a more revealing figure. Ice twisting through locks, long limbs summoning attacks with poise. It is as though she drifts through water—gravity has no hold on the Lady Shiva. And his Warrior, skirts and pages rippling in the wind, steps lightly to dodge the assault. Recites spells in a delicate tongue, gestures with slender fingers to hurl her own ruin beside those she commands. A dance for him to pay audience, curving and cold.

All told, a successful venture.

How much more rewarding if he did not need to report back.

***

Returned to an office he rarely has occasion to use, Lahabrea paces.

Idleness suits him not. Though the man’s aether approaches what it was before his misstep, it pales beside their colleagues. The torchlit interior is littered with reports and tomes. His own notes form a growing stack on the desk. If Pashtarot is to be believed, lack of hazard has only made him more insufferable.

Lahabrea cannot seem to keep still, cannot stick to a single project. Dabbles in how to heighten efficiency for their whole organization. Frets constantly.

His movements are quicker than they were. Jerky.

“The Scions are plotting something,” he mutters.

Nabriales, forced to endure such nervous energy without leave to attend his own affairs, scoffs. “Of course,” he replies. “We are none of us blind to the situation. They recognize our plans and form countermeasures.”

Lahabrea glances his way. “Does none of this trouble you?” he asks. “They have not even employed a fraction of their strength and resources. Our movements are duly noted. You might have been more discreet.”

Nabriales glares. “Do not,” he says, “presume to comment on my performance. Speaker.”

His tone, it seems, goes overlooked. Lahabrea only waves a hand dismissively, passing again across the room. “No, they know us better than we gave credit… might you monitor their current agendas more closely?”

This time, Nabriales snorts. Folds his arms. “With or without deference to improved subtlety?”

Lahabrea turns to him.

Pauses.

“…if it comes to a question,” he says slowly, “keep out of sight. Once your presence is revealed, it cannot be masked again with ease.”

This earns a laugh, hard and shameless. “Strange, such sentiments seem more aligned with our Emissary. Does this new, cowardly Lahabrea worry on my account or for himself?”

The Speaker stares, mouth just parted.

“Oh, don’t look surprised,” Nabriales adds with a shrug. “Surely after so long you know we all dislike you. You’ve ever placed higher value on feeling busy than contributing anything of worth. That it is only after losing you exercise care is absurd.”

“Nabriales,” says Lahabrea, his voice low.

A shake of the head. “Don’t bother,” he says. “You have never recognized me as worthy of the office. I am… a placeholder. But what does it say for you that one of my stature might seize the victory you spurn?”

This time, it is almost foreign. Mortal and filthy and yet another reminder of what he has never been.

Nabriales seizes the front of Lahabrea’s robes. Drags him close. “Do not,” he says quietly, tasting ozone as electricity burns across his teeth, “say that name in front of me again.”

***

Lahabrea lets him go. He doesn’t fight back, doesn’t argue.

Disappointing.

***

“Nabriales is no more.”

Fear not for me, Lahabrea. I assure you that my track record is quite sound.

“…The Ardor was not his to invoke. His demise was of his own making.”

Perhaps they all have things they need to hear.

“Nevertheless, it concerns me. They have…”

You have never recognized me as worthy of the office.

“…extinguished that which should rightly be eternal.”

Surely after so long you know we all dislike you.

“Mayhap he was not wholly mistaken. Greater haste may be warranted.”

Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.

“We are of one mind.”

Does this new, cowardly Lahabrea worry on my account or for himself?

“…The northern lands, then?”

Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.

“The earth is fertile, and the seeds well sown. By my will they shall reap salvation unlike any the world has known.”

Only learn.

“By His will.”

We are all of us instruments of Zodiark.

“…By His will.”