#like his sword and the magitek themselves

[nothingxs]

FFXIV Write // Steer

The air was choked with heat and smoke, the din of clashing steel echoing through the paths and corridors as soldiers pushed on further and further. The initial frontal assault on Castrum Meridianum was always just one part of a two-pronged attack, and now that the so-called Warrior of Light had upheld their end of the deal and the magitek barrier had been disabled, what was once a feint now became a real threat.

And so, it was up to them to make do on the threat. It was up to us.

"I wonder," Ilysa shouted over to the rest of us, "how much longer do you think before the Empire surrenders this position?" She held her planisphere (so much as one ever does) to her right, running alongside us and looking down to find a line of soldiers who had pressed the rest of the Flames.

"Ain't bloody likely!" Renolt shouted right back, keeping his pair of blades close. "They know how important th' position is, they won't surrender unless they're made to!"

Dameron and Nenera had nothing to add to that, following up behind me. I was about to check with them before Lanna, who had leaned ahead, had made to duck behind cover and motioned to the rest of us to do the same.

"It's a big unit," they called out to us. "From here, four magitek armors. Couple of dozen soldiers. They want to clear us out." They turned to look at me. "It's on you, Red. Our men could overrun theirs, but not with those armors with them. What do you say we give them hell?"

I remember feeling myself grin as I looked to the others.

"Right. Ilysa, give Ren and Lanna a little boost. Dameron, you rain some hell to give Ren a shot at one of 'em. Lanna, see if you can't briefly commandeer one of their machines to cause problems. Nene, once Lanna's clear, burn 'em." I drew my sword and readied my shield, confirming my instructions with everyone with a nod.

"Right, Red," Ren fired back as he started to pull some throwing daggers from his belt. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'll be right there with you."

What followed always was a bit of a blur.

It's hard to really key in on things; we've always just trusted each other to have each other's backs. I saw Ilysa draw cards and pass blessing both to Renolt and Lanna. As soon as Dameron's massive fireball caused the Imperial ranks to shake for just a small moment, one of Ren's daggers had found purchase right through the neck of one of the pilots.

Nenera and I moved to draw attention, getting quickly behind cover and providing enough of a distraction for Lanna to swing around, quickly leaping up to the disabled pilot's machine, reaching in, grabbing the controls and letting loose on the Garleans themselves. Dashing out from cover and cutting through the line of soldiers with other Flames at my back, Nenera's Ruby followed through and unleashing hell upon the remaining armors as Lanna fell back.

And amidst the chaos, pressure from all of us on the now-scattering force was all that was needed. A few well-placed cuts to fuel lines and joints from my sword and the encouragement of levin, wind and ice joining soon after the explosions were the only things we needed to disable the machines. And so, we charged ahead.

Or in any other case, we would've charged ahead.

A small pain that I'd dismissed in the back of my skull, now radiated throughout my head. The deeper we got into the Castrum, the deeper the feeling had got. I had dismissed it as a lack of rest, but this wasn't just a headache. It felt like I was being pulled.

Pulled away.

As we advanced, I stopped, and clutched my head, and looked ahead in the distance. My breath caught and I was filled with what I could only call dread. Ilysa and Nenera, who had been tending to the lightly wounded in the back, caught on, and Nenera was with me first.

"Cel, love, what's the matter? Why've you stopped? Are you hurt?"

"…Something's wrong, Nene." My eyes were fixed forward.

"Well, it's war; I'd hope—"

"No. Nene, listen to me," and I crouched to meet her eye level, hands on her shoulders, though I could still not bear to look anywhere but into the depths of the Castrum. "Something is wrong. Something feels wrong. We need—we have to retreat."

"Retreat? Love, are you mad? Th—"

I had finally turned to look at her.

She never told me what it was in my expression that convinced her. I just remember her looking at me with some level of horror, swallowing, and nodding.

I sounded the call to retreat. Our men seemed confused, at first, but the urgency of the call convinced them of its seriousness.

We'd started to fall back. I like to think it was the urgency with which I was waving men back that convinced them it was serious. Our men had stopped to help the wounded to get back, as well. Among the wounded had been a few Garleans as well, and several Imperial soldiers had advanced… confused as to the sudden ceding of ground. Still, they didn't chase, choosing to gather their wounded.

The pain in my head suddenly felt like it might split it in two.

I yelled to my men to hurry.

One of the Imperial officers met my eyes in the confusion.

I yelled at him to run.

We were told there was a flash of blue and white, right after. None of us remembered.

All we remembered was waking up outside of the Castrum, our wounds being tended to, having been too close to the blast.

...did those Garleans make it out...?

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #15: [EXTRA CREDIT]

This one is part of a top-secret AU developed in parallel with one of @hellgram's! Please look forward to it!

"Lady Vera!"

The centurio was one of Nero's, and Vera could not remember her surname for the life of her - only that she came from an old Garlean line with close ties to the Imperial Magitek Academy.

"Yes?" As she stopped walking to greet the woman, Fordola continued ahead to get them both practice swords that weren't dented to the seventh hell.

The centurio, however, did not mean to keep her: she brushed past Vera with a horribly smug smirk on her way out of the training hall. "Please give our best to young Master Atreus."

The name was not the least bit familiar to her. "Of course," she replied with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

"What was that about?" Fordola asked her.

"I've not the faintest idea," Vera whispered. Others, too, were glancing in her direction with far more purpose than usual, and one or two laughs resounded from the far corners of the room in a manner that sparked only her resentment. "Check in with Ansfrid, maybe?"

Sure enough, mere moments into their spar, Fordola signaled a pause, tapped her communication device and gave Vera a nod.

Ansfrid met Vera in her chambers with two fresh newspapers folded in one hand and a small pocket radio in the other.

"Atreus aan Loculus," she said, "and prior to that, no name at all. Arrived in the imperial palace as part of the IVth's delegation from Dalmasca yesterday morning."

Vera read voraciously, only to find that the papers themselves said precious little beyond what Ansfrid had confirmed - only that the proceedings of the imperial court had been interrupted by the arrival of a young Dalmascan mystic, presented to the emperor by the legatus of the IVth Legion.

The more Vera absorbed, the less she understood: somehow, the sole unfamiliar name alongside so many others she knew - Solus', Gabranth's, even a single mention of her father's - made the whole accounting all the more surreal, like trying to critique a half-finished manuscript. By the time she refolded the second of the two newspapers and tossed them onto the nearest sofa for future perusal, her heart pounded with an intensity she could not begin to fathom.

And neither did she have the time for speculation, with a mere twenty minutes before she was due at breakfast.

"I need to bathe," she announced, and Ansfrid and Fordola each stepped back to clear the way to her tub.

All the while, and all through the walk downstairs to the dining hall, she contemplated the tactics by which she might prompt her husband to speak on a topic that certainly fell well into the realm of "idle gossip." She did not expect Gaius to invoke the matter himself.

"Have you heard aught of His Radiance's new attendant?" he asked, the moment the servant who had brought them their respective breakfasts - a sensible Garlean one for Gaius, and a platter of various Ala Mhigan sweets and savories for Vera - closed the door behind her.

Vera scowled before she could help herself, or even fully consider his framing of the question: attendant was a clinical word, detached from all that she and Solus had shared to the point of being euphemistic. "Nothing definitive; certainly nothing I would take any great stock in." She waited a beat as she slathered a bit of flatbread with cheese and fig jam, as though the topic had not occupied a majority of her thoughts over the past bell. "What of you?"

"The emperor's diet spoke of little else this morning," Gaius replied, referring to the council Solus kept with his legati. Gaius had needed to wake for it at an unholy bell, given that its timing was meant to accommodate others stationed in the Near and Far East. "Noah van Gabranth would answer none of the questions that were posed of him."

"Or could not, in all likelihood." Vera was not in the habit of defending van Gabranth; it was perhaps the first time in her memory she had ever done so. As Gaius narrowed his eyes at her from across the table, she continued, "I can imagine you had similar questions posed of you, when our engagement was made public."

"Never in the emperor's hearing," Gaius admitted.

Were she any less preoccupied with the matter at hand, she might have demanded to know which of the legati had been the most vocal in their opposition to Solus' proclamation of their marriage. She shook her head, in no small part to focus herself. "And what have been your impressions thus far of this… development?"

Gaius often paused to deliberate over his words, and he did so with enough regularity that Vera had begun to not only expect but predict his momentary silences. At her own question, however, he visibly hesitated.

"I believe," he said slowly, "that we had best redouble our efforts to produce His Radiance an heir."

Vera's face burned with an embarrassment that took her aback, and only a twinge of resentment. "Should you ever require a more direct line of questioning with van Gabranth," she offered, "you may invoke my research in Lea Monde from two years ago. It was in part a study of the importance of various types of oracles to early Dalmascan history and society, and the ways in which these traditions shape various factions in the modern day."

Another servant arrived through the door to collect their dishes, and Gaius gave no signal that they should forestall their conversation. "Do you have this report at the ready?"

"Procuring a copy discreetly will take some time, as it would need to be mailed from Rabanastre. Barring that, I can ask Agent Walker to send over my notebooks."

"The full report will suit," he replied, and then- "My thanks."

"You've a busy day today," Vera said - a statement, not a question.

Gaius nodded.

She made no effort to conceal her motions before the servant departed: she stood in time with Gaius, walked the full length of the table, and leaned up to kiss him. "I'll meet you in your chambers when it's over."

He laid a gauntleted hand on the small of her back, drew her in closer, and returned her kiss with one of his own: firm, steadfast, and intentional. Her face flushed all over again, in spite of herself, as he drew his fingers slowly along the lace trim at the bust of her kaftan; then he replaced his helmet without another word and left to tend to his command.

[cakelanguage]

Guess who finally wrote stuff that they’re posting? ME. I got to write a gift for @twistmyleg for the IgNoct 2023 Gift Exchange @ignoctgiftexchange. I hope you enjoy this fic!

You can also read it HERE

-

Battles against Nifleheim’s Magitek soldiers weren’t out of the ordinary at this point. Ignis had perhaps grown too used to the rumbling of the aircrafts overhead and the mechanical clanks of the soldier’s joints as they marched disjointedly alongside each other. 

That didn’t make any of the encounters less harrowing than the last. But repetitive encounters did make one grow lax to certain features. The soldiers tended to attack in swarms and focused their attention on Noctis for the most part, using their numbers to try to box Noct in. Having Noctis be cut off from their protection had panic clutching at Ignis’ throat the first few times, but the soldiers weren’t particularly strong. Gladio could take out a soldier with a single swipe of his broadsword and Prompto had gotten quite adept at aiming his bullets at key joints in the armor to remove limbs with jubilance. 

Ignis preferred infusing his daggers with magic or a polearm to create distance between him and his opponent. If a tiny bit of the reason he preferred the daggers more was that Noctis’ magic was warm under his hands—no matter what elemental he’d channel through the blades—no one had to know. 

But as he’d mentioned, repetitive encounters didn’t mean they’d always be the same. There were still times they were caught unaware or the soldiers did something unpredictable. Which led them into the situation they were in now. 

The air in Duscae was humid and heavy with the scent of incoming storms. They’d had a day of hunting, collecting money so they’d have enough to not only pay Cid for the repairs of the Royal Vessel but money for weapon upgrades and more healing supplies as they’d grown terribly low over the course of the week. With everything that had gone down in the Steyliff Grove ruins and Gladio’s self-discovery trip with Cor, they’d worn themselves down perhaps a bit too much. 

While most of the group had been more than happy to accept some leisurely time spent at Cape Caeum with Iris and the gang, Gladio had been full of vigor to continue to power through. He seemed to have found a renewed passion for not only his duty but his belief in his own power. Gladio’s enthusiasm had only spurred Prompto into giving in to the older man’s desire, though Ignis had a feeling it was so Prompto could snap more pictures of Gladio’s new proclivity to forego wearing his shirt for extended periods of time. Noctis hadn’t had much of an opinion on the matter so that had been that. 

With exhaustion tugging at his limbs and four contracts completed for the Hunter’s Guild, Ignis thought they were doing fine. Tired, but fine.

Until the aircraft showed up. 

Dread hammered at him as the aircraft came to a standstill not twenty feet away from them. Gladio was the first to summon his sword. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he grunted. 

Prompto let out a sound between a whine and a groan. “Can’t they leave us alone for a day?” Prompto asked, summoning his guns to his hands. 

“The world would end before they did that, Prompto,” Noctis said. 

Prompto whipped his head around with a glare. “Don’t give the world any ideas.”

Ignis couldn’t suppress the tiny smile that always came out when the group teased each other. “Duly noted, Prompto,” Ignis said. With a shatter of luminous crystals, the weight of his daggers settled in his hands. Despite the long day they’d already had, the familiar weight of the blades was just as comforting as always. “Shall we gentlemen?”

Noctis flashed him a confident smile, bright and boyish despite everything. “Bet I can defeat more than Gladio; what do you think, Specs?”

Ignoring Gladio’s vehement denial, Ignis made a considering hum. “Perhaps if Gladio decides to try and show off again, you can take out an extra soldier while he postures for one of his spins.”

“It’s an effective move!” Gladio argued over Prompto and Noctis’ laughter. Rolling his eyes, Gladio turned his eyes back to their enemy who was jerkily making their way over. “Whatever, you're on, Noct.”

Noctis’ engine blade gave a rumble as he too turned his attention to the soldiers. “Let’s do this.”

Watching Noctis toss his sword and warp towards the enemy in a shatter of crystals, Ignis dashed forward letting lightning crackle through his daggers. With a deft strike to the left, he struck the neck of one of the Magitek soldiers. The body jerked angrily, a feeble swing of its sword missing by over a foot before falling into a heap of metal. 

Turning towards the sound of gunfire, he caught Prompto and Gladio coordinating a combo that involved Prompto using Gladio’s back as a springboard to come down on a soldier with his chainsaw weapon he was still mastering. The whoop of success from the two must’ve meant the two had nailed the combo they’d been trying to get down for a while. 

He focused back on his next opponent and switched his daggers out for his polearm to sweep the three soldiers that had gotten too close to a more manageable distance away. He contemplated pulling out a flask of ice to halt the soldiers in place but knew it would do more harm to the team than good. Close-quarter fighting was not the time to use Noctis’ bottled elements. They’d all learned this the hard way on multiple hunts with burns and threatening hypothermia. 

A yelp jerked his attention towards Noctis, who was surrounded on all sides. Ignis immediately clocked the stream of blood that flowed from the cut on his upper arm. He couldn’t tell if it was serious, but by the way Noctis was clenching his jaw, it was at the very least painful. 

Ignis threw a dagger at a soldier that was getting distressingly close to Noctis’ back while the man in question was focusing his assault on the three soldiers in front of him. Ignis tried to follow the path of his dagger, pulling his polearm back out to vault himself into the air to come to Noct’s aid when he felt it. 

Shooting pain radiated from his shoulder as he was impaled on the end of a soldier’s sword. Hot blood gushed from the puncture and instinctively Ignis grabbed at the blade that stuck out of him to try and prevent the sword from being pulled out. The bleeding would only increase if the metal was removed and he couldn’t risk that. 

He’d been distracted, too caught up in making sure Noctis was defended even though he had two additional people he could rely on to watch Noctis’ back. It wasn’t even a lack of trust that caused him to react in such a way. Gladio was Noctis’ shield for Astrals' sake. No, it’s just that Ignis had a hard time stopping himself from constantly trying to be at Noctis’ side. To provide aid in any way he could.

An electrical current travels down the blade and through his shoulder in a dazzle of red bolts. He chokes on a scream, body jerking uncoordinated in its failed attempts to distance itself from the bolts frying the edges of the wound. It's an odd mix of detachment and all too aware agony that the current flows through him.

A gurgling moan reached his ears and vaguely realized it was coming from himself. Ignis could hear an uproar around him and maybe his name, but none of it was registering as more than nonsense in the wind. That wasn’t good, especially since they were all in the midst of battle. Ignis needed to get out of this situation. He needed to go help Noctis.

With an angry cry, Ignis shifted himself to the right in a quick motion, dislodging the sword from the soldier’s grip and somehow managing not to have the sword shift in his body. Probably because his collarbone and shoulder were doing an excellent job at halting the sword’s progress. Panting, he blindly backed away from the soldier who was quickly taken out by a swing of a glowing sword.

Ignis frantically tore his gaze toward the location he’d last seen Noctis only to be met with the sight of broken Magitek armor. The shattering of crystal breached his senses and he turned once more to the sky to see Noctis levitating off the ground, his arsenal floating around him in a defensive circle. 

Spectral swords of old reigned terror on their foe, but Ignis had eyes only for his prince. Furious and terrifyingly beautiful—no, this wasn’t just his prince, his king, this was Noct. His precious Noctis. The boy who used to walk hand-in-hand with him in the royal gardens donned with flower crowns. The boy he tucked close to his side up in the highest tower, blankets around their shoulders as they stared up at the constellations they could make out amongst the light pollution from the city. The young man who tried to live up to everyone’s expectations no matter how monumental a task that might be.

Despite Ignis’ fading vision, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from Noctis’ rampage. Even when he felt hands grasping at his shoulder to try and maneuver him into a better position to supposedly try and treat his wound, his focus was on Noctis. 

“Iggy, you’ve gotta lay down,” Prompto said, his voice cutting through the fog. 

Ignis wanted to protest, to urge Prompto’s attention back to the battle, but all he managed to croak out was, “Noct?”

Prompto let out a nervous, high-pitch laugh, the kind he let out when he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle the situation and he needed to break the tension. “Noct’s got it under control.” Prompto prodded delicately around the sword still lodged through him and Ignis hissed at the fresh wave of pain that cut through the numbness that was threatening his consciousness. “Shit, okay sorry, Iggy. We’ve gotta get this thing out of you.”

Ignis lazily shook his head. “The bleeding.”

“No, I know you’re bleeding, that’s why we need to heal you.”

He wasn’t positive but he knew their stock of potions was running low and he was determined to make sure Noct was looked at first. “Save them for Noct,” Ignis grits out. 

There was a thud beside him and a meaty hand joined Prompto’s in inspecting his wound. “Yeah, Iggy, don’t even start with that crap,” Gladio said. “Noctis will throw a fit if he hears you say that.” Perhaps, but Ignis could be stubborn about this until he knew the extent of Noctis’ injuries. “Can’t believe I have to do this… Noct, get over here!”

He squinted at the blast of crystalline magic that Noctis’ practically erupted out of in his mad dash to reach him. It was almost laughable, the way his limbs almost got tangled up in each other as he collapsed in a messy kneel on his good side. Maybe he was a bit worse off than he originally thought. 

“Hey, Iggy,” Noctis said. Noctis’ voice was always so soft when he said Ignis’ name. A hand cupped his cheek and Ignis leaned into Noctis’ hand because it had to be his. He recognized the callouses against his skin, the little scab on Noctis’ thumb from a mishap with one of his lures that he figured would heal on its own. “You seem a bit pinned down.”

Ignis let out a weak, amused snort. “Didn’t quite make the cut I suppose.” Not his best work as far as puns go, but he blamed the blood loss. 

Noctis’ chuckle was music to his ears. “That was terrible, Specs.”

“You still laughed.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

Ignis gave a noncommittal hum. “Maybe so, but a laugh is a laugh.”

 “Can we heal Ignis now, or are you two going to continue flirting?” Gladio asked. “Because you’re seriously losing too much blood.”

Ignis probably would’ve had an intelligent retort about Gladio and Prompto’s own flirting attempts if he didn’t lose consciousness before he could respond. 

He comes to with a familiar grogginess clinging to his mind. It should alarm him that he's used to waking up like this, the dredges of a potion still faint in his mouth. But Noctis has taken to experimenting with the different drinks he uses to make his healing concoctions and always tries to give Ignis the Ebony-flavored ones. 

The weight of a hand curled tightly around him pulls his attention toward his companion. Noctis is hunched over beside him, his head periodically dropping as he fights sleep. Ignis knows that Noctis will be regretting that posture later when his scar tissue flairs in angry stabs along his back. He wants to reach out and correct it or at the very least pull him down so that Noctis is laying beside him. He just can't get his arm to cooperate.

Settling to verbally get Noctis' attention, he quietly cleared his throat. "Noct," he said, voice rough with sleep. Ignis can't quite hold back the snort of laughter he lets out at the disgruntled jerk Noctis makes at the noise. "You should lay down."

"Ignis," Noctis breathes, a smile wrinkling his eyes in the beautiful way Ignis wants life to document Noct's joy. "You had us worried."

The battle is fresh in his mind, the pounding of boots as Magitek soldiers swarmed them. He remembers the flash of steel before it'd skewered him through the shoulder. The Lichtenberg of electricity that'd raced down his arm and fanned out from his fingertips. The spasming of his limbs as the power took its toll on him.

But mostly he remembers Noct. He remembers the fury in Noctis’ actions and the gentleness he returned to Ignis’ side with. He vaguely remembers sharing a few words together, a contentedness warring with the state of his body at the time, and then nothing. 

He wets his lips and tilts his head to examine Noctis closer. “Are you alright?” Ignis asked.

Noctis rolled his eyes with a huff and flopped over beside him like a child. “Of course, that’s the first thing you ask,” Noctis said, but he didn’t sound upset, more disgruntled than anything. “I’m perfectly fine, you’re the one who was really injured.”

“Good thing I had you to come to my rescue.” The soft teasing at his own expense is a small price to pay for Noctis’ annoyance shifting to a familiar smirk. 

“I’d always come to your rescue, Iggy.” The smirk shifts to a quiet, honest smile. “Always.” He still looked concerned as he ran his free hand down the new scars on Ignis’ arm. “Would you let me use another potion?”

Noctis knows that he’s plenty capable of doing what he wants, but the fact that he still asks Ignis these things reminds Ignis of how much his lover cares about Ignis’ opinion. He may not always listen, but he asks. 

The numbness in his arm is still strong, but the Lichtenberg pattern that had crept towards his hand has faded some since it first marred his flesh. Likely a hi-potion will take care of any lingering effects but Ignis is hesitant to use a resource that they're running low on when he can allow the wound to heal after a night's rest. "I'll be right as rain tomorrow," Ignis reassured.

Noctis sent him a skeptical look, his other hand not currently holding Ignis' reached up to cup Ignis' face. "Promise me that if it still hurts in the morning you'll use another potion," Noctis said.

Any reluctance he had about using a potion wilted under Noct's pleading face. “If it will assuage any fears you might have about my well-being, I promise.”

The victorious grin he received made his heart flutter violently in his chest. He tugged Noctis’ hand closer to him until Noctis picked up on his desire and shuffled closer until he could plaster himself to Ignis’ side. He carefully laid his head against Ignis’ chest and let out a content sigh. “Wake me if you need me?”

“I always need you.”

A muffled whine was buried against his chest. “Sap,” Noctis whispered like it was a secret how much they cared about each other. 

Ignis only pressed a kiss as well as he could against Noctis’ head. 

[motheatenscarf]

I will say, this game is also great at managing nostalgia in the margins with fun items and themes and nods, but very rarely making it obnoxiously central to the main story which, mediocre tho it is so far, is mercifully allowed to be its own thing.

I did the King Moogle trial and got an INCREDIBLE sword out of it, for as long as this game is making me stay Paladin (please for the LOVE OF GOD, let me unlock dark knight) this is my sword forever;

"Don't worry, Y'shtola!" - draws blade- *kupo!*

Also, there's a magitek armor mount you pick up, and if you have mount music enabled, it plays Terra's theme

There's actually a lot of love for FF6 here, which is nice to see because it's uhh, maybe the best one?

There's also just, straight up Ultros is here through the Hildibrand storyline and I did that fight with my brother, who got a tiny wind up Ultros minion I forgot to get a screenshot of, but during the entire fight it was just straight up playing The Decisive Battle, no alterations, the midi track ripped straight from FF6 and it was great

When heading back to check the market in between doing group content, I saw someone sitting around with a tiny wind-up Kefka minion and he floats, which is great, because it lets him do a little animation where he leans back, holds his stomach, and kicks his legs laughing and I NEED one.

Jake is having a blast because FF6 is HIS favorite game in the series which like, yeah, he's correct in that. My favorite is 12 because I was 15 and in Catholic school when I played it and it was the first game I ever played that said, "Maybe religion is a liar and if gods existed we should KILL THEM."

There's a lot of evidence in 12's influence on this game with music and loading scenes and a LOT of monster designs and other such design elements, but not so much nostalgia nods like the minions and whatnot. I did see a tiny Fran minion and Viera do exist here, but that's mostly it. I can live with that tho, 12 is great, but it's not a classic one, it's not as iconic and didn't have as many utterly unique designs to it. And those that were unique were uhhhhhhh, bad. I love 12, but I'll be the first to admit, not ONE of the main cast knew how to dress themselves, yes, even Balthier, who's fine until you notice he's wearing crocs.

[stephicness]

Okei I have to ask... Last day I see in Youtube comment in 'Ravus Aeterna' video someone writes 'Ravus is so interesting but he doesn't have scenes. If he has more scenes he will be the Artorias of FFXV'' I don't play Dark Souls but I knows a little of Artorias so my question is... What's your opinion about that comment?#GiveRavusmorescenesplease

Oooh, that is a really cool comparison, actually! Funny that you bring up Artorias, because he’s one of my favorite Soulsborne icons across the FromSoft games. Have a little figurine and everything that I love and cherish. 

I can see a lot of similarities between the two of them overall, but contrary to thought... Artorias only had, like, 40 seconds of screentime. But the major difference is that you got a crap ton of lore hidden throughout Dark Souls – something that Final Fantasy XVI should have done to really cover its bases when it comes to plot holes. I definitely would have made me log another 20+ hours into the game just meandering to find little juicy secrets and lore pieces hidden within items and locale details, you know? 

But I digress. The similarities between Artorias the Abysswalker and Ravus Nox Fleuret the High Commander Butthead, is kinda cool! Both are knights who are badasses with a single sword, both like dogs, both turn into gooey abyss boys, both get wrecked by the MC after they wrecked you seven-hundred times (no? Just me?) --- the list of similarities goes on! 

Okay, I joke a lot when I simplify it, but legit – the deep dive into the lore of these two is rad, so the comment really does hold up a little bit: 

Both were, of course, knights and soldiers. But both also have groups that, in a way, serve/follow them – with Artorias commanding Gywn’s army before eventually inspiring the Abyss Watchers and Ravus eventually leading the Niflheim army. Artorias may have had a much more pleasant group of supporters, but Ravus too had his own influence as time passed. 

Both wield the power of darkness on their side due to some aspect of corruption to them when they fight – before they turn fully corrupted, that is. Artorias's sword is cursed by the Abyss after travelling in and out of it. Meanwhile, Ravus’s arm is supposedly corrupted, as it’s realized that Magitek stems from Daemon power and scourge magic essentially. 

Speaking of arms... Both have crippled LEFT arm. Ravus of course had his burned by the Ring of Lucii and Artorias had his broken when trying to protect Sif from the creatures of the Abyss after being defeated by Manus. It’s why you see Artorias in his signature fighting stance – as he used to wield the Cleaning Greatshield before that. 

They both have some sort of closely associated canine companion – with Artorias having Sif and Ravus having Pryna and Umbra (to a degree). 

Both ultimately succumb to the darkness/abyss at some point, and yet both were still recognized as heroes after their death. Artorias was killed by the Chosen Undead after becoming fully corrupted, but he was still honored as a hero by most – enough to allow the Abyss Watchers to use him as their inspiration of sorts. Meanwhile after Ravus’s death, Noctis and the others found themselves with a great deal of respect for Ravus – especially when knowing he was attempting to help Noctis and the others before he was ultimately killed. 

In general, I think Artorias’s lore in Dark Souls is fantastic. And when you compare Ravus to it, it’s rather interesting to see overall. So yes! I can’t help but nod with that comment and go ‘Yeah... That sounds aight.’ -u- 

[windup-dragoon]

Tonight I tried something different! I created a more modern AU. Everything is about the same, the Scions and Warriors of Light are working to uncover Ascians, to stop the threat of Primals, and put an end to the Garleans reign. Kugane and Doma have been completely under the Garlean rule when Hien’s father is killed and the prince is assumed dead. The magitek soldiers are more machine than man and act as security throughout Kugane. 

Thank you @ishgard​ for the prompt! Probably not what you were expecting but I wanted to change it up a bit after writing last nights piece. 

【Ｈｉｔ　ｏｒ　Ｍｉｓｓ】

Hien x Kirishimi 

Word Count: 2,189

It had definitely been a day. Her body felt sluggish as she weaved her way through the bobbing crowd of hopelessly lost youths. To music with bass that could mimic a heart attack and ear splitting electronic tones they swayed and danced, as if kelp in the tide. Beneath a cloud of glittering smoke and lights that made her eyes hurt. Just how she wanted to spend the remainder of this dismal day. 

Heels clicked as she marched through the throngs, all but stomping along illuminated tiles on the floor to reach her destination. A large bar with an endless expanse of colored drinks lining the wall. Beneath the dance floor lights each bottle seemed a vibrant neon, poisons with fruity names. One day she would know the taste bottled inside each one that lined these shelves, surely she was already half way there with how often she frequented the club. 

Kirishimi leaned against the glass top bar, drumming agitated fingers against the rhythm of music. “Mix me somethin’ strong tonight, Isho. I’ve had a rough one.” Miscolored eyes shut as the music shifted and sent the crowd into a delighted frenzy. 

“My apologies,” A soft voice spoke out to Kiri amid the chaotic drumming. Kiri immediately shot the bartender a look of bewilderment. Instead of her typical contact, a hyur male with raven hair stood in the Au Ra’s spot, cleaning a glass as if it were business as usual. “Isho isn’t here tonight. What can I get you instead, my friend?” 

She squinted against the dizzying lights. Many of her months now had belonged to this club and its patrons. Although ultimately under Garlean control and influence, Kirishimi found it a prime location to gather information. Occasionally, when wayward guests would find themselves enticed by silken words and gilded visions of a grand future she would intervene. The Garleans and their ilk had found new ways to replenish their ranks in a diminishing army. All it took was empty promises and a single dose of Black Rose, the latest ‘medical’ advancement magitek corporations could offer. Those charmed by such beautiful words would be rallied into their army of mechanical soldiers, no longer themselves and replaced with metal. 

But of all her time frequenting this location, never had she encountered this particular bartender. Her contact had always been Isho. No matter the time, no matter the date. He had always been her safety net when things went south. So then, who was this fresh face? 

Despite the lack of fair lighting she could visibly see various patterns of ink scribbled across both his arms, tucking neatly beneath the rolled cuffs that came to his elbows. Thick ebony hair, longer than her own, and a clean cut beard trimmed close to his jawline. Certainly not a difficult sight on the eyes, if she were being honest. Even the scar over his left eye, splitting his eyebrow at a slant, seemed rather charming. Or perhaps this was just her type? 

Kirishimi blew out a sigh after taking in the mans features, two fingers rubbing her temples to shoo away a rapidly approaching migraine. “I’m not your friend. Where’s Isho?” 

The man chuckled. “Actually, I believe he put in his resignation and quit this place.” The cup in his hands squeaked as he continued to clean it. Kirishimi quietly wondered if he knew that only scratched the glass. “As should you. It isn’t safe for a pretty face.” 

The woman blinked but kept her attention to the various bottles of liquor displayed just out of reach. “...Is that a threat?” 

“Ah,” Another laugh slipped. “No, you’re misunderstanding my attentions. And normally when someone calls another ‘pretty’, it’s a compliment.” 

“Get to the point, kid.” 

The tone shifted, as did the music as if on cue. All bass with the tiles of the dance floor beating in rhythm. Almost matching a heartbeat. The bartender at last set aside his glass and splayed his hands across the bars pristine surface, leaning close to her. An air of rosewood and sake tickled her senses. 

“You’re one of the Warriors, aren’t you? Well, word on the street has it that some big wigs are here tonight. They’ve got hounds that want your head.” 

Kirishimi tilted her head to better gauge the mans expression, noticing much too late just how close he had gotten in order to whisper over the music. “And why are you tellin’ me this and not Isho?” The whole situation seemed off. A set up perhaps? Not even Alphinaud had mentioned hunters on the prowl. His information was often straight from the source. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard about it. Unless...? 

Her eyes widened as a sudden urgency stirred in her breast. They had found him out. Not just Isho, but traced the roots all the way back to Alphinaud and his ragtag crew of information suppliers. The gods were determined to make the day even worse for Kirishimi it seemed. Fools. 

The man offered a small smile before drawing himself away. “Don’t worry, your secret identity is safe with me. If you don’t mind working for me.” 

Kiri huffed and spun on her heel, her back leaning against the bar now. Over the vast and endless sea of the dancing crowd she could see them. Crimson eyes that pierced through the strobe lights and mechanical bits that sparked with reflected light. Magitek soldiers. Often they were disguised as everyday bouncers but not these particular models. If she had to bet, they were fresh off the assembly line. No doubt armed to the teeth with fun toys that would shred flesh like tissue paper. 

“Work for you, huh? I dunno ‘bout that.” Brushing aside stray locks of white hair, Kiri contemplated her options. For all she could tell this man was playing her like a fiddle. A Garlean spy who knew the right words. If that were the case, the situation seemed grim. No escape. The magitek soldiers would have her surrounded and he would have the emergency exit covered. 

“What do you have to lose? You said it yourself, you were having a rough day already, right?” Without granting the man even a curious glance she could hear the smile in his voice. A fool trying to play at chess. When she failed to answer, she heard the gate of the counter click and lift from its lock. “Time’s ticking, Warrior. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Deal?” He moved beside her, an idiots grin tugging at his lips. 

But it was his movement away from the counter that now drew the attention of the very guards they so despised. A whirling of clicks leaked into the speakers, static that disrupted the music. None of the party goers seemed to take notice however, and simply adjusted to the new diluted sound. 

“Get us out and I’ll consider it.” Kirishimi shot the man a dangerous look. If it were all but a trap, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. A cornered animal is often worse than one found in the wild. 

“Perfect! You really have that ‘I’ll kill you’ look down to a science, huh? Or am I special?” The man teased. But before she could grant him a response, his hand latched around her wrist. Warm and worked, his palm calloused. Just who was this man? 

His right hand raised in the air just as the automatons flooded the floor, guns and various blades drawn. A spark of light ruptured from his outward facing palm and extended in an almost straight line, just a touch longer than his arm. His fingers clutched the burst of light and it shattered, materializing a katana in its wake. 

Alerted buzzings and panicked alarms rang out now from the soldiers at the sight of a drawn weapon. Chaos unleashed itself upon the couple in a hail of bullets. Bottles with intoxicating contents broke apart in tiny explosions of liquor and shards of glass. The man brandished his blade with ease, despite the lack of a second free hand, repelling the advancing forces while breaking out into a run for the exit. Kirishimi, close at his heels, kept close and ducked accordingly when swords swung out to stop them. 

The impostor bartender keenly delivered them to the front doors. Bullets ricocheted on either side of them, shattering the glass of a floor to ceiling window that held the clubs logo and Garlean symbol. Like rain in a storm shards of glass poured at her feet, clattering and crunching beneath her heels. The raven haired man knocked aside a bit of remaining glass with the hilt of his katana before dragging her through to the cool night air. 

Silence greeted them. The city of Kugane had grown empty under Garlean control, or perhaps compliant was the better word. Except for a number of night clubs like this, civilians rarely ventured out at night. Magitek soldiers littered the streets, roaches ever scouring. 

“Here!” The man shouted, already aware of more soldiers shambling out of alleyways and opening fire upon them. With a tug of her wrist he encouraged her to follow, leading her to the street where a black motorcycle was left unattended. He released his grasp only to throw one leg over the machinery. A twist of the key left in its ignition and it roared to life. A tiger growl in the empty night. “Get on and hold on tight.” 

Sure, she could have run opposite of him now and down an alley to escape her pursuers. It would have been easy enough. But the man cocked his head over his shoulder, green eyes alight with an unfamiliar glow. His jaw tensed. No. She wouldn’t break their deal off just yet. Not until she found out what happened to Isho and if the Warriors and Scions were in jeopardy. He was her only clue to the answers. 

A bullet skimmed by. She felt the wind tear several strands of her hair before she made her decision. Kirishimi lurched forward to the bike, throwing her leg over as he had done and coiled her arms around his waist. Beneath the vest he wore and white button down, she noticed this man was no ordinary bartender. His stomach felt as hard as rock itself. Or perhaps he truly enjoyed lifting weights? 

Her thoughts abandoned her as the bike jostled forward. A feral rumble of the engine and they were off, a blur in the night that faded down the street. Magitek soldiers tried to hold pursuit and give chase. But before long Kirishimi could no longer make out their blinding red eyes in the distance. Or the flashing neon light of the club dubbed ‘Seventh Heaven’. 

-- 

“Here. Lemme get you something for that pain. It’s got to be killing your shoulder.” 

“I’m fine.” 

Over an hour they spent driving around that evening. The wind had blasted her face, leaving her cheeks red and icy to the touch. But it was in efforts to throw off their enemy, a price she would willing pay considering it seemed to work. The magitek outside the small complex staggered down the road, oblivious to their hiding spot. 

He threw open a cupboard over the sink and rattled a bottle of pills. “At least let me get the bullet out. It could be a tracker. Or worse, you’ll bleed all over my sofa.” 

Kirishimi sighed and leaned herself forward so she sat on the edge of the couch. He was partially right. Since the soldiers outside seemed unaware of their presence, she had her doubts that the bullet lodged in her shoulder was a tracking device. But the old couch would definitely be stained if she remained untreated. 

“... Hurry up then, chief.” 

“The least you could do is ask for my name. You know, like a civilized person. It’s Hien.” Footfalls approached behind her and stopped at the back of the couch. The wood of the furniture squeaked while cushions beneath her caved beneath his weight. Like a bird he had perched himself on the back, legs on either of her sides. 

“Hien...? Why does that sound familiar?” She leaned further away from Hien, lost in thought. 

“You probably know me as Hien Rijin. My father was the lord of Doma before it was taken over.” 

This news had her mismatched eyes grow wide in surprise. The prince of Doma was alive?! Kirishimi twisted at the hip to look up at her rescuer but screeched at the sight of a knife in his hand. 

“What are you doing?! Don’t point that at me!!” She wailed, snatching up a throw pillow to defend herself. 

Hien puffed his cheeks and strained against his desire to laugh at her. “I’m going to preform an operation. If the scary lady will tell me her name, there may be some pain killers to be had first.” 

Pouting, Kirishimi reluctantly gave in, even sitting up straighter to give him better access to her bloodied shoulder. “Kirishimi Yasuragi.” 

“Ah. Cute name for a pretty and terrifying lady. Now, take your shirt off.” 

Smack. 

[thepilgrimofwar]

White Scabbard

Lord Akihide addressed the lowly vagrant that had been brought before him. The longhaired Doman had been recommended for his discretion and efficiency, though it didn’t make the Daimyo feel any less uneasy. There was just something about causeless men that unnerved him. Perhaps because he knew that without attachments to things greater than themselves, men had the capacity to behave no better than beasts. The Lord eyed his guest but supposed that the man’s beasthood had still yet to be proven.

“Tell me, Sawashiro, what is strength for?”

Sawashiro Kaijin bowed his head and stepped forward, not unfamiliar with courtly mannerisms despite his plain appearance. “Could you elaborate my Lord?” he replied.

“My father would have told you that strength is for its own sake,” Akihide Yukio dropped his lordly demeanour for a moment and continued. “But he was an old feudal lord who had carved his kingdom into existence with his sword. My mother however would have had you believe that strength is found in silence. To be able to bear the unbearable. I would like to have your answer.”

Kaijin considered this for a moment before responding. “Its purpose would depend entirely on what it is in service of.”

“And what are you in service of?”

“Doma.” Kaijin said without a moment’s hesitation.

Yukio eased at last. Bannerless as his guest was, they were yet aligned in their purpose.

“There is no greater cause,” Lord Akihide said, adopting his title once more. “and we will be serving Doma by proxy through each other.” The lesser daimyo snapped his fingers, and court attendants presented his guest a scroll. “Your task.”

Kaijin took the invitation to unfurl the document, taking a few moments to absorb its contents before furling his brow. “Garleans?” he questioned.

“The war is over, Sawashiro, and the Akihide Clan is making new Doman citizens from its refugees. What better way to make use of our former enemies than to have them serve Doma? Especially those well versed in magitek. Garlean Engineers, technomancers, scientists, I’d use them to build a better future for our war torn homeland…Though it is needless to say there are those who disagree. Violently.”

The Doman nodded and took the pause to speak. “Four murders. Werylt. Valnian. Ishgard. Kugane.”

“All done outside Doman borders, all involving Garlean experts who had answered the call and accepted my offer,” Lord Akihide confirmed. “Find out who is doing this and stop them. Lest we earn an unsavoury reputation amongst the other clans.”

Kaijin nodded. “I’ll begin immediately.”

His host raised a hand. “Not quite,” Lord Akihide said, folding his arms. “There is another task. Arguably one that is even more important.”

The man looked to the court attendants in anticipation for yet another scroll.

“This one is unwritten,” Yukio explained, dropping his noble demeanour once more. “Our mutual friend who recommended you for this job insisted that you have no interest in women, is this true?”

Kaijin tilted his head, curious to see how this was relevant in any way. “I have no interest as I understand it,” the man responded neutrally.

“Good. Because I will have my daughter accompany you on your travels. It would be a good opportunity for her to learn about the world beyond Othard and you are to protect her above all else.”

The man regarded the request for a moment before speaking. “Not to question your wisdom, but are you certain you wish to entrust the safety of your sole heir to me?”

“Who said anything about her safety?” Yukio replied frankly, enjoying the look of confusion on his guest’s face. “She’s the daughter of two warlords. Born from the mud and blood of Nagxia. You’re a fellow veteran from Nagxia, are you not?”

“Ten years,” Kaijin replied, as if it explained everything.

“Then you know how deadly one born from that war can be. No, the girl can take care of herself. Your duty will be to protect her, not as her sword but her scabbard. Keep her steady, keep her sharp, and bring my daughter home alive.”

[cerezawrites]

FFXIV Write #2 - Bolt

The harriers’ cart charged across the wartorn landscape.  The soil still smoldered from the magic and magitek that clashed in the war between Eorzea and Garlemald, and though the war was over, it provided cover from their latest raid on the relief efforts being offered.  The relief station had been small and underguarded, perfect for a raid.  They hadn’t been loyal son of Garlemald, but they sure as the Seven Hells knew they weren’t getting good wealth from the new peace… not unless they stole it for themselves.  

This raid had been pretty good.  Sure, they lost a few less seasoned members to violence, but most of the refugees and aid workers weren’t really up for defending themselves.  And it meant fewer splits in the loot.  They’d even managed to grab the attacker as a hostage - a red-clad Hyur in her teens who had been visiting to support the effort.  Her sword alone looked like it would fetch a pretty penny, and they were sure her clothes meant she was a noble of some sort with a family willing to ransom her.  

The bandits rode on as she awoke, groggy from the sleep spell wearing off, her hands bound to prevent her from using magic.  “Wh- where am I?” she asked, shaking her head.  “This… isn’t the aid station….”  

“Don’t worry,” the leader said.  He was a Sea Wolf, bulky and armored in a mish-mash of Garlean an dEorzean gear he’d scavenged.  “We’’re just taking you back to camp to hold onto until the ransom demands come in from mummy and daddy.”  He grinned, clearly thinking he was clever.  

But the girl was confused.  “My… parents?  I don’t.. Have any.  No… was there… to meet.  Someone.  A friend”  

The second in command, an Elezen, picked his teeth with a dagger, and smiled.  “Well… hope that friend is rich enough to pay up…”  

The Hyur shook her head.  “I think… she is… but she’s… not going to pay… not in gil…”  She was trying to remember… who WAS her friend?”  

- 

The Warrior of Light followed Lyse through the damaged aid station.  People were scared, on top of their ongoing hunger and trauma.  “Third time this week one of the camps got hit, Cereza,” Lyse said, sighing.  “Damned harriers.  Managed to get a lot of valuable supplies.”  

Cereza put her hand on Lyse’s shoulder.  The red-clad warrior breathed in and out, calming herself.  The Warrior of Light smiled and looked at the mess.  “Worry about the people for now. We can get replacements for the goods; I’ve already sent word over to my adventuring friends about securing some replacements - AND bolstering patrols for future raids.  That said, I’d still rather try to get this batch back.”  She looked around again.  “Was… anyone injured?  I don’t see any bodies or any medics.”  

Lyse shook her head. “A few bumps and bruises, but most were too scared to do anything. The station is still getting set up.  The guards who were here got knocked unconscious by something…”  She pulled out a report written up.  “Hmmm… witnesses say one girl got hurt…  she rushed at the bandits.  Got one or two pretty good but one of them hit her with a sleeping spell and dragged her off as a hostage.”  Lyse frowned again, as if trying to understand what she was reading.  “She wasn’t a local, though… supposedly she was a volunteer for Mor Dhona.”  She shook her head.  “Not sure why she was out here of all places.  Speaking of which, what brought you here?  We hadn’t sent word back about the -”  

Lyse was interrupted by a rush of wind and a streak of gold across the sky.  Evidently, something she said had sent the Champion of Eorzea off on an urgent mission.  She narrowed her eyes at the report again, and then widened them.. “Oh… well this is going to be an interesting day…” she muttered as the pieces fell into place.  

An Ala Mhigan came over and saluted.  “Ma’am, we’re prepared to pursue the missing cargo.  Orders?”  

Lyse sighed.  “Take a team out, Lieutenant… but don’t rush.  I have a feeling they won’t have much fight left in them when they catch up..”  

-

The cart rolled on through the landscape, the sky unchanging save for a distant golden streak.  The driver kept going, but the leader noticed the streak… something wrong about it.  

Arya noticed it as well, and eyed the sword.  The spell had worn off and she could feel the bond between her and the blade.  The leader’s gaze was distracted long enough for her to roll and grab it, and though her hands were tied, she was able to angle it and will her aether through just enough to push her out of the cart.  

The thugs turned and watched, scrambling to the back to try and grab her.  Only the driver and the leader watched the figure in front of them land.  

Arya worked the blade to cut her bindings, and stood up.  She wasn’t getting caught again this time.  Her will crystallized aether into six blades which shot out at the cart, catching the harnesses for the chocobo and freeing them to run on past the figure that now stood in front of the bandits.  

Her part done, Arya watched as the figure drew her own rapier, and decided her part was done.  It was dumb luck to have gotten caught by the spell… but still a bit amateurish.  Someone she knew wouldn’t have been - and she was about to bring down her erstwhile captors.  

-

The leader felt the cart jolt as the chocobos were freed, and watched them run past the stranger who had just landed.  The cart still had momentum though, and he was sure it was going to flatten the stranger.  Just to be safe, he turned on the Cerulem burning engine on top - an emergency measure, but it would get them through her and to their hideaway.  

What he hadn’t counted on was the stranger to be ready for that.  

-

Cereza Hoid breathed in and out.  She saw Arya’s escape, and smiled at her aim, the blades hitting only the harnesses and bindings and not the birds.  

She judged the cart’s distance, and spotted the ceruleum engine installed on top.  The make was similar to what the Ironworks had put out recently, so she quickly calculated the speed with an arcanist’s mind and how much it could accelerate, before drawing a weapon more appropriate to the fight.  

She’d spent no small time delving into the depths of the Palace of the Dead, mastering its enchantments and fighting against them with her whole being.  Though she had many weapons collected from battlefields and tombs, she always felt comfortable with her hands around a blade of aether.  And so it sprang out - red and black mist coalesced into solid forms, a focus hovering over her left hand, a slender rapier in her right.  

She counted the seconds as the cart advanced, and as her count reached ten, she flared her aether, converting it into mana that charged her blade.  Like a bolt of lightning, she charged the cart, landing on the side with her feet on the step for the cart.  The men would respond in a moment, but she wasn’t giving them that moment.  With one strike, she set free the supply wagon the captive had been carried in, where the supplies sat still.  With a three stroke Zwercchau, blazing with arcane energy, she disconnected the fuel lines for the engine as well as its bindings, setting it to fall as well.  With the repeated thrusts of her blade in Redoublement, she jabbed at the driver’s controls, breaking them before he could respond.  And then, in a flash of aether, she pushed back and drew in the residual mana from the attack, filling her focus before unleashing three more attacks to pin down the rogue carriage.  

From the ground beneath the cart to the heavens above six beams of light shot up, knocking it into the air.  

As it hung, a blast shaped in arcane sigils scorched the cart and drove it down to the ground.  

And for good measure, she thrust the blade out, and a tunnel of accelerator marks brought a rose-colored blast to the cart, knocking out any who remained unconscious after the first two.  

-

“I guess you didn’t need saving after all,” Cereza told Arya as they walked through the camp.  “Sorry if I stole your thunder.”  

“I’m not that proud,” she laughed.  “I’m glad you still came after.  I could have fought them, but it was risky already.  Guess I should work on breaking through sleep magic next.”  She went to the next patient, laying her hands on them to heal their bruises with conjury she’d honed to wield her blade the way they both could.  

Cereza had healed most of the patients, but Arya wanted to practice, and it was far from the Warrior of Light’s place to discourage her - especially when helping like this had been part of their planned rendezvous..  Instead she watched, the young red mage clearly having grown.  “I think you’d have been fine.  But… well… I’m not fond of kidnappers. Especially after…” she trailed off.  

Arya finished the last wounds and turned to her friend.  Cereza wasn’t her mentor - they shared one in their own times - but she was an inspiration, like her older sister.  She noticed that trailing and went over.  “What happened?  Remember, it’s not the first time I’ve been kidnapped.”  

Cereza sighed. “True… and you lost more than me.  I suppose you’d understand.”  She explained the incident in Garlemald with Fandaniel, the kidnapping and soul swapping that they’d endured.  At the end, Arya, looked horrified, but kept her composure.  

“Damn,” the younger Red Mage said.  “Damn them both to the Seven Hells.  That’s… just not right.  But.  You got out of it.  You’re back.  And so am I.”  She offered a fist, and Cereza smiled as she bumped her own into it.  

Lyse came to join the two, red in her own way, as the guards carted the battered bandits off in chains.  “Good work.  Not only did you save the supplies, but we got a map to their base.  Probably need a few hands to help clear it, though.  Don’t suppose either of you two know some dashing and daring swordswomen who are up for a bit of fun?”  

The two Red Mages turned and nodded with smiles.  “We came here to help out those who were hurt by this war.  That includes those who profit from it.”  

They turned to Lyse, who smiled as well.  “Excellent.  Well now, let’s see what we can get up to… though, I don’t suppose that cloud of yours seats three, Cereza?”  

Cereza shook her head.  “Afraid not.  But, this might.”  She pulled out a remote, and pushed a button that caused a small crystal to glow.  As it did, a long, sleek black vehicle teleported in front of the trio.  “Cereza opened the door and took the wheel, tuning the portable orchestrion in the dash.  “Well, you two going to join me, or should I arrange another ride?”  

The stunned women shook themselves out of their reverie, and joined their companion.  Cereza smiled and drove off in a flash, like a bolt of black lightning across the wartorn land.

[autumnslance]

Seems we get a brief breather between parts 1 and 2 of 5.5, so Aeryn's snagging her man so they can take care of one another post infiltration and combat. Just two adventurers cleaning up together. The rating actually remains in "older T" levels. You'll see why.

Below the cut on Tumblr for those who prefer this medium: ----

After the hearty dinner their colleagues set out, the senior Scions dispersed. Y’shtola, Urianger, and G’raha vanished to the library to discuss the Hydaelyn theories. Tataru offered to show Estinien his new room with the twins opting to tag along, for better or worse. Aeryn snagged Thancred’s coat before he could leave the dining area. He raised a brow and glanced about as she tugged gently, encouraging him to follow her. No one seemed to pay them much mind, so he did not fight being drawn along.

“Have a plan?” Thancred asked as they headed down the hall leading to the various senior Scions’ rooms.

Aeryn shrugged. “Nothing specific. Mostly I’ve missed you and we seem to have a moment.”

He drew her into an embrace, backwards against his chest. They both still smelled of levin-burnt sand and grimy sweat, tinged with the coppery tang of blood. But her viola hairpiece was also mingled in, familiar and comforting, and he let out a deep sigh he felt he’d been holding for weeks. “I’ve missed you as well.” He leaned closer to her ear to murmur, “I’ve perhaps been thinking of the various ways I intend to show just how much I’ve missed you once we’ve cleaned up.”

She giggled and he could see her expected blush as she leaned into the embrace before stepping away. “Sounds as if you think to get dirty again .”

He grinned. “It’s certainly been a thought, if you’re amenable.” Thancred paused as they came to her door. “I need to stow my gear and check on a certain rodent, lest we be interrupted by squeaky indignation later.”

“Come in when you’ve cleaned up and seen to your other girlfriend,” she teased, giving him a wink before turning away.

“On second thought,” he said, overwhelmed by the idea of Aeryn vanishing behind the door. “I’ll risk nutkin wrath and come in now.”

“You know you’re asking for it,” Aeryn said, keeping her door open for him.

Thancred shrugged, propping his gunblade on the stand by the entrance as he stepped inside. “We played and I lavished all sorts of affection on the little tyrant when Urianger and I were here naught but two days ago, it’ll be fine.” Maybe. His pet had been rather clingy since Thancred had awoken to his body after his time on the First.

Thoughts of the nutkin scattered as soon as the door locked, allowing them to fall against each other, Aeryn’s hands gripping his lapels, his hands in her hair and on the small of her back, pulling them into a long kiss and gods he had been needing that. They had had no time to themselves, not even a brief stolen moment, since his return from Garlemald. The closest they had come was leaning on each other for a brief nap on the airship returning from Paglth’an to Ul’dah.

But now here she was; solid, warm, soft in all the right places, and as tense as she normally was after such adventures—and when worried for a friend. They broke the kiss, both sighing with content as their foreheads rested against each other.

“You’re tense,” she murmured, pushing his coat off.

“Was about to say the same of you.” He let her remove it to hang by the doorframe. It needed a good wash and repairs after fighting through Paglth’an, not to mention a few weeks scouting in Garlemald; there hadn’t been time for proper maintenance the brief times he had returned to the Stones over the last few days. He dropped his gloves behind her so he could slide his palms over her form until he found the buttons and fastens for her own coat, hanging it next to his once he had it off her.

Aeryn started unhooking his belts and harnesses. He thought of protesting, but the weight of his gear was suddenly noticeable as his ammunition, daggers, the holster he kept healing potions and unguents, and various other pouches of practical supplies, were hung on hooks or placed on the nearby desk.

Thancred fought the urge to lean on the wall to turn to her, doing the same with her sword belt, supply pouches, the tie she wore with that coat. He was about to unbutton her shirt, but she was unhooking his armor, and he helped remove his chest piece, feeling lighter—and weary and aching, now that it wasn’t holding him up.

“You’ve a lot of bruising,” Aeryn said, already working on removing his undershirt as she frowned, noting every wince and flinch he made as her fingers traced over him. 

“Well, I was holding off magitek and dragons.” He tried to make it sound light, but he thought he sounded more snippy due to his tiredness. He forced his tone to sound gentler. “It’s after effects, really; Urianger saw to the worst of it already.”

Aeryn muttered the familiar incantation, the electric taste of wintry pine and icy mountain lakes accompanying her spell. The aching faded further, his remaining minor injuries progressing to a nearly healed stage. It was an improvement, and he told her so before kissing her again. His hands took advantage of the distraction to remove her blouse, watching her wince and flinch now as Thancred checked over her shoulders and arms, across her back and midsection, frowning at her cuts and bruises in turn. He tried reminding himself that some had been unavoidable, even with him standing between her and their enemies.

“Would that I could return the favor.” He bit down on the old frustration as she cast for herself under his gaze.

“It’s all ri—ight!” Aeryn yelped as he picked her up and turned to deposit her on her nearby desk, then knelt.

“Allow me to help with this instead,” Thancred said, finding the hidden fasteners on her tall boots before pulling them off. She sighed and flexed her toes, socks sweat-stained, perhaps blood stained too, given some of the discoloration. He pulled off her socks and began massaging her left foot, grinning as she released a small relieved moan and slumped a bit. All the flipping around she did couldn’t have been easy on her long, perfect legs, he often thought, working his way from her toes to her calf before moving on to her right foot.

“You’ll have to let me do the same for you. I know those greaves are heavy.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, knowing it was pointless to argue. Honestly, he was looking forward to it. He left a kiss just below her knee before he stood with a wince.

Aeryn slid off the desk, a hand on his chest, herding him to sit next to make good on that promise. Thancred sighed and allowed it, feeling better with his boots and socks off and grumbling relief as she massaged his limbs, checking his feet as he had hers.

“I could fall asleep like this,” he murmured. She finished her work and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Not before you get a bath,” Aeryn admonished. “Or shower, if you prefer; the reservoir’s heated and ready to go either way.”

“First things first.” Thancred stretched as he stood. He gestured at the vanity in her wash area. “Sit and pass me your hairbrush.”

Over the next several minutes he carefully, section by section, brushed out her fine locks, removing bands and pins and undoing the braids. Why she put it in such a complicated style was beyond him—though he had to admit it stayed more or less in place, and she seemed able to style it swiftly. Aeryn meanwhile enjoyed the attention, only hissing and flinching the few times he hit an unavoidable snag. Smoothed out, her hair fell past her shoulder blades. He drew his fingers through the black strands for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Want to wash it too?” She half-joked.

“Would be my pleasure. We have to finish getting you undressed first, though.”

“As if you’ve ever had problems with that,” Aeryn teased—even as he undid her brassiere.

“No idea what you mean,” Thancred said, leaving a kiss on the round of her shoulder while his fingers danced down her sides and then front to undo her pants.

Once they were both divested of their remaining clothing, he took her hand like a gentleman and helped her step into the tub. She fiddled with the levers on the shower head, making sure the water wasn’t too hot when it poured forth, rinsing away the grime and grit. They took turns washing each others’ hair and scrubbing backs and limbs. After the magical healing, there were still bruises on them both, but they looked days old instead of—gods, was it truly the same day? The sun had risen over the plains after all night fighting, then returning to Ul’dah, and finally home where it was evening again.

It had been a long handful of days.

Aeryn “mrf’d” as he rubbed her shoulders and back, the soap washed off but much of her tension remaining. He didn’t realize he was just as bad until she did the same for him, scrubbing his neck, shoulders, and back, continuing to massage as the warm water rained down. He forced himself to relax, or tried to at least. The temptation to fill the tub and lounge together was strong, but Thancred feared in their weary states they might fall asleep. Not that that would be a problem for Aeryn, given the Kojin blessing. He really ought to look into that for himself; it could be extremely useful.

They shut off the shower just as the crystal reservoir was running out and the water started to chill. Aeryn was quicker, snagging the biggest of the towels—which she wrapped around him, rubbing vigorously. “Gotcha.”

“My only complaint is you are the one dripping everywhere,” Thancred said, grabbing another towel. “All that hair first, then the rest of you.” He wrapped up her hair as she tucked his towel around his waist like a makeshift skirt, forcing him to find a third towel to wrap her in. It also put him in the perfect position to scoop her up, eliciting another surprised sound and giggle.

“I can walk, you know,” Aeryn said, nuzzling his neck. “And I know you’re tired.”

“Not too tired to spoil you what little you allow.” He carried her across the room and around the partition to her bed. He set her among the many pillows and blankets she kept there, pulling away the towels and dropping them to the side to be worried about later as he settled in beside her.

“Shouldn’t we be under the covers?” She feigned innocence as his hands roamed over her body. “And turn off the lights?”

“This would be part of the ‘get dirty again’ plan from earlier.”

“Ah, right; thought you’d forgotten.”

“As if I could.” Thancred denied further rejoinders with another kiss, this one hungrier than the others. Aeryn responded with an equal fervor, pressing closer to him with a shiver as his fingers found sensitive spots along her spine and sides.

He was enjoying her quiet little noises and how she writhed, and he nearly had her to where she would make those sweet, whimpery begging sounds as he prolonged their mutual pleasure, when Aeryn stilled, blinking past him. “...Thancred…”

He heard the scrabbling and had barely enough time to brace himself before four tiny sharp-clawed feet landed on his upper back accompanied by angry chittering, and he wondered how such a small creature could knock the wind out of him like that.

Aeryn was no help, the traitor, laughing while the nutkin continued its scolding. “I warned you!” she got out between giggles.

“How in the seven hells did it even get in here, I know I locked that door,” Thancred growled, wrangling the beast off his back, though it refused to be held, scrambling over his arms, chest, and shoulders, until Aeryn cooed and clicked for it.

“You’re the infiltration expert, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” she said as the nutkin bounced over to her, still chittering indignantly but accepting a cuddle and pets.

“Argh,” was Thancred’s only response, dropping on the mattress, arms splayed. A moment later there was another sharp weight on his chest and more chattering, this less angry and more inquisitive and needy. He scritched the nutkin, begrudgingly pleased with how it chirred and nuzzled him. “One would think you neglected entirely, to be so demanding,” he admonished. He went unheeded beyond a fluffy tail bomfed against his ribs a few times in response to his voice.

Aeryn giggled again and settled alongside him, adding her own tribute pets. “You weren’t kidding earlier when you called this critter a tyrant.”

“Perhaps if fed it’ll allow us to return to our own business,” he grumbled.

“There’s a tin container in the cabinet on my desk for such occasions, since we spent plenty of time together while you were gone. You could get the lights while you’re at it.”

Thancred sighed theatrically, eliciting another round of giggles from Aeryn. He sat up with one hand cupped under the nutkin, who chattered and scrabbled up his arm to his shoulder as he crossed the room, its nails prickling Thancred’s bare skin.

There was, in fact, a tin and food and water dishes in the right-hand cabinet in the desk, the nutkin bounding in gleeful expectation upon the oak surface. “You know what you’re after, little fiend,” Thancred said, adding a few treats to hopefully keep his pet occupied and too full to bounce around much more. He brushed his hand over the soft grey fur while the nutkin dug in, chirring with content as it ate. “Lesson learned; see to you first always. Now no more interruptions, hear me?”

The nutkin paid no further attention, focused on its dinner and the snacks for storing in one of its many stashes around the Rising Stones. There was probably at least one here in Aeryn’s chamber.

Thancred left his fuzzy companion on the desk as he turned out the lights, grabbing extra water glasses while he was up, the room familiar enough that once his vision adjusted it was no trouble to cross the darkened space.

Aeryn had slid under the sheets in the meantime and was starting to doze off by the time he set the water on the nightstand and laid beside her. “Sleepy?” He tried very hard not to be too disappointed; it had been a long, hard few days, and honestly sleeping in her bed and being used as her pillow was itself a heavenly feeling he had missed over the past few weeks, and all else could wait until they were better rested in the morning…

The placement of her hand scattered those thoughts. “A bit, after everything,” she said. “But I’m certain you can wake me up again. We had a plan, remember?”

“Indeed,” he said, pulling her close once more. With any luck the nutkin was finally satisfied, as it hadn’t been the only one missing Thancred.

[ffxiv-angora]

Day 30: Abstracted

The final prompt ;__; It's a long boi too

Small TW: This takes place during the battle at Carteneau so there's violence, death, etc etc.

Tagging @caspianking since I stole Eli for this one lol

The sky was on fire. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Nothing she’d even imagined to be possible. Dalamud was falling. The very ground shook underfoot with every explosion and as soldiers charged forward into the chaos. It was loud. Too loud. The mix of cannon fire, magic, and screams was overwhelming. Angora could do nothing but stand with her feet firmly planted to the ground with her ears pinned flat against her head and her tail wrapped around one leg.

Someone gives her hand a squeeze, causing her to finally pull her eyes from the carnage happening in front of her. She blinks, looking up to the viera next to her. Eli. Her first and only friend. He gave her one of those goofy, crooked smiles of his just like always. But even that smile couldn’t hide the fear that was clear in his eyes that mirrored her own.

“Don’t worry, Kitty cat!” he shouted, lifting his gunblade to rest it on his shoulder. “Just remember the plan! We’ll be okay!”

That gods forsaken nickname earns him a sour look, but Angora nods and gives his hand a squeeze in return. That’s right. They’d made a plan between themselves and a few other trusted squadmates. Moons worth of secrets and hiding evidence. A plan to finally escape the clutches of the Garlean army to freedom. That freedom happened to be Eorzea seeing as the battle happened to take place in Carteneau, but anywhere not under Garlean rule would have been sufficient. All they had to do was stick together and move towards the edge of the battlefield. Then just...run like their lives depended on it when there was an opening. Because it did. If they were caught, they’d likely be executed immediately.

Angora’s grip on her bow tightened when she looked back to the battle. Their group wasn’t even fully aware of what the reason for this war was. It’s not like they were in any position to question it. All they knew was they were told that the Eorzeans, like themselves, were savages who needed to be crushed and held under Garlean rule. Something about primals and the Twelve? Was the falling moon their fault or the Empire’s? The only difference between the Eorzean “savages” and the squadron was the fact that they’d already been crushed. Captured and trapped. Forced to obey in hopes of living to see the next day. In Angora’s case, it’s simply all she’d known.

“Move it! Stop your stalling and get in there!”

Angora’s grip on Eli’s hand slips when she gets a firm boot the center of her back from the Legionarius who’d come up behind them. She stumbles forward, using her bow to catch herself before she could end up face first in the dirt. It took all she had not to shoot a glare over her shoulder. Thankfully, she’d had a lifetime worth of practice. Eli was quick to move to her side and address their superior for her.

“Of course, sir! We were just going.”

“You better be. Do not let me catch you hesitating again. For the Empire!”

Angora and Eli both gave him a “For the Empire!” full of forced enthusiasm that seemed to be convincing enough seeing as the Legionarius moved on. It’s only once he’s out of sight that Eli gives Angora a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and angles his head towards the battlefield. Angora nods, pulling an arrow from her quiver as they move forward.

Things become a blur and muted. Eli charges ahead to clear a path through the opposing side while Angora watches his back and picks off stragglers from a distance. He keeps the front safe while she keeps an eye on the rear. The rest of their squadron stayed in the middle. It wasn’t their first battle together but it was certainly the largest. Their moves are robotic and merciless. No care for the lives they were taking. If they didn’t strike first, it would be their bodies in the mud instead of the Eorzeans. They were doing fairly well...until they weren’t.

Their plan was still on track. They’d all managed to work their way towards the edge of the battle without rising too much suspicion. But the longer they fought, the harder it got to stay together. They were tiring as well. More attacks were getting past Eli as the Eorzeans pushed forward. An arrow here, a slash there. Had they been paying attention, maybe they would have noticed the group coming from the side. Maybe the plan would have worked.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a band of Eorzeans pushed in from both sides of the group. Angora was the first to spot it, but she was too late. Too far away for even Eli’s ears to hear her. There were too many explosions. Too much cannonfire and screaming. Angora’s scream was one of them. All she could do was watch in horror as their squadron was picked down and torn apart. Eli and Angora were split off in separate directions and Angora scrambled back just in time to get out of range of a flare that goes off in the center, knocking her to the ground.

“Eli!!” Angora screams, squinting to try and see through the flames as the spell fades. He had to be okay. He had to be. She narrowly dodges a swipe from a sword and wastes no time in shoving an arrow into the attacker’s throat. He looked as scared as she was. His face is forgotten the moment she shoves his body away. Angora fumbles to get to her feet, desperately scooping up her bow and whatever arrows she could find at her feet. It’s then when she sees that not only is the sky still on fire, now that very same fire was raining down onto the battlefield.

Meteors.

Why was this happening?! Wait- did the moon have cracks in it? For just a moment...the fighting stops.

It’s then that what looks to be a giant glowing pillar of some kind falls from Dalamud and collides into the Star, sending shockwaves of rock and dirt across a majority of Carteneau. Bodies and machines alike are also sent flying. Yet again it becomes so loud. It’s too much. It’s too overwhelming. One sound still manages to cut through, though. Angora’s ears turn toward the sound of a gunblade firing before she sees it. What she sees is a battered Eli way too far from her frantically fighting his way through a crowd of Eorzeans.

“Nonono...E-Eli! Don’t worry!” Angora shouts, climbing her way over destroyed magitek. “I’m on my wa-” She freezes. Eli had spotted her and their eyes met. The look he gave her made Angora’s heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Time slows. It was the same smile he always had...but full of so much sadness. He shoved a soldier to the ground before pointing to the mountain range behind her. He was...saying something. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the battle happening around them.

“W-What?? I can’t-”

“Go! Get out of here! This is your chance!”

Angora’s breath catches in her throat. Eli’s voice just barely made it to her. Surely he hadn’t just suggested that she leave him behind. She couldn’t. Not him. Were those tears running down her face?

Angora hardly gets a chance to process it before a poorly aimed fire spell causes a blast nearby that sends her flying from off the magitek and back to the ground. Her ears are ringing and she can hardly see past the spots in her vision. Her first and only friend’s voice echoes in her mind.

“Go!”

She...she had to. There was no choice. He was right. This was the first and only chance at freedom that she would get. Twenty cycles of torment could finally be over.

“Damn it! Damn it all!”

Angora rolls onto her side, digging her fingers into the mud while forcing herself to stand. She does not look back. If she did, she wouldn’t leave. Her bow is quickly pulled over her shoulder before she takes off as fast as her legs could carry her. Eorzeans and Garleans alike are ignored as she bobs and weaves her way through the chaos. A blade catches her across the back, but she doesn’t stop. She only stumbles a few steps before blindly pushing forward.

I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.

“Angora?”

Run. Run. Run. She was so close to the mountains. Beyond there was a forest where she could hide. She’d be safe. She had to be. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of Eli’s sacrifice.

“Hey, Angora~?”

Her lungs burn but she refuses to stop. Not until she is able to desperately dig her fingers into the stone and clamber her way over some of the large boulders at the base of the mountain. She spins around just in time to see one of those awful meteors coming right for her. The air becomes impossibly hot. It’s too late. It’s coming. It hurts-

“Angora!”

Angora startles, blinking a few times before looking up from her desk to squint at Eli. He was alive. It was by some miracle that they both were.

“Hellooo? Anyone home?” The viera leans forward to lightly knock on the top of Angora’s head right between the ears. Angora just tsks and swats his hand away.

“Oh hush, Rabbit.”

“Come onnnn! I’m hungry and you’ve been working all day! Let's go!” He about gets a book thrown at that smug face of his when he starts to shake her desk.

“Fine, fine. But you are paying this time.”

[starrysnowdrop]

Imperial Cid AU Timeline

Because my brain is super disorganized and refuses to write in sequential order, I am posting all of my Imperial Cid AU headcanons here so that everyone has a general idea of the timeline of events, which will allow my brain to do what it wants to do and jump around as it pleases. So here’s the info dump! Enjoy!

((I will link this to my pinned post as well for easy access later when I finish with more prompts!))

* Not too long after the Bozjan Incident, in the midst of the investigation of what happened to have caused the explosion, Cid found the evidence that he needed to prove his theory: His father Midas was tempered by Bahamut.

* Cid decided then to accept the promotion to his late father’s position as Chief Magitek Engineer for the Empire, as a means to an end: he wants to rid the Star of all primal summoning.

* He accompanied Gaius van Baelsar and the XIVth Legion to Eorzea five years ago to subjugate the populace, but Cid’s main concern was not the invasion but to sabotage Nael van Darnus and the VIIth Legion’s plans to unleash Dalamud. In this AU, Cid tried to squash Project Meteor altogether, but Nael van Darnus was already tempered by Bahamut and still secretly went along with her own plans.

* Not too long before the Battle of Carteneau, Cid has what he believes to be a dream of an Auri woman entirely made of light who gives him his trademark goggles. He can’t explain how he actually obtained them in reality, however.

* Obviously, Cid fails in his mission and Bahamut is unleashed, causing the Seventh Umbral Calamity. Cid is able to escape Carteneau with Gaius, so he does not get amnesia in this timeline. Instead, Cid goes and researches Allagan Ruins, eventually finding the Ultima Weapon.

* During the time following the Seventh Umbral Calamity and the beginning of ARR, Cid is working on locating the Ultima Weapon and developing weaponry for another invasion of Eorzea. He also had the same reoccurring dream of the Auri woman in light more and more frequently.

* While Cid is investigating the summoning of Ifrit, he sees a group of adventurers fight and defeat the primal. These adventurers all were immune to primal influence, much to his surprise. Among them, he sees a woman who looks exactly like the woman in his dreams.

* Against his better judgment, Cid goes and follows the woman, to find out more about her. He sees her talking with Thancred, and recognizes that she must be working with the Scions. He continues to follow her until he is forced to reveal himself to her.

* They introduce themselves to each other, and Cid can finally put a name to the face: Yume Aino. He goes back to the Castrum and Livia has already told Gaius all about the adventurers that defeated Ifrit.

* Cid overhears Gaius tell Livia that investigating the adventurers that have the Echo might prove useful. Cid begins to feel protective of Yume and fears what might happen if she keeps interfering with the primals.

* Cid and Yume meet each other three more times, twice in the Black Shroud while investigating the Sylphs and once before the summoning of Titan. Each time they reveal a little more about each other, and the tension between them builds. Cid keeps trying to tell her to stop her interference with the primals and the Garleans, but she refuses.

* After the massacre at the Waking Sands, Cid is angry with Livia and is worried that Yume is dead. He goes to the Waking Sands only to find Yume helping to load up the bodies of the victims. Cid is elated that she’s alive, and Yume thanks him for his concern, but she warns him that she wants to avenge the fallen and plans on killing Livia. Cid says that he won’t stop her.

* After the fight with Garuda, Yume is wounded and due to internal bleeding, she falls unconscious. Cid runs to her side and carries her back to the airship, declaring that she is under his protection.

* Cid has chirurgeons heal Yume while he watches over her. The two share an Echo vision and they realize that Yume gave Cid the goggles via the Echo around the time of the Calamity. Cid asks Yume to join him but before she is able to answer, the Scions come and rescue Yume. Cid doesn’t try to stop them and he allows them to escape.

* Yume and Cid don’t meet again until the attack on the Praetorium, when Cid once again asks her to join him. Yume tells him that she can’t because she will not become an oppressor like she was back in Hingashi, and she doesn’t believe that Cid wants to be one either. She tells him that he could come with her and help the Scions with any primal threat, but she must destroy the Ultima Weapon.

* Cid and Yume fight, and Yume is victorious. While holding her katana towards him, Cid pulls her down to him while on the floor and puts the katana to his neck, asking her to kill him. Yume sheathes her sword and refuses to kill him.

* When Yume finds Gaius, he also asks her to join him, but laughs when she tells him no, as he knows how she feels for Cid. Yume then realizes that she has fallen in love with Cid, and that she must save him no matter what happens.

* As the Praetorium is in ruins, when the other adventurers take Thancred and escape while Yume goes back to search for Cid. He is laying under some rubble unconscious, but Yume is able to get him out alive with a suit of magitek armor. Cid is taken into custody.

* After a time in prison, Cid agrees to help the Eorzean Alliance in the building and maintenance of a fleet of new airships and in giving them inside intelligence on the Empire in exchange for a full pardon. Cid soon found out that Yume had a hand in him receiving his pardon.

* As soon as Cid is freed, he goes and finds Yume and they do the smooches and the love confession and that’s the end. ;)

If you actually read through all of this, thank you so much! I promise more of this AU is coming soon!

[biot08]

THUNDEROUS

The Miqo’te woman had rather preferred when it was quiet.

The castrum was under attack, and she was finding the noise overwhelming, find it hard to think. She could feel the aether, thick in the air, from magitek weapons fire and thrown spells being flung around her.

She felt as though she could breath it in, feel it, hot in the air, hot in her chest and belly, flowing through her. She felt as though if she would just stop a moment, she could grab it somehow. She wanted to.

She wanted Liana and Papanan and herself to survive more.

A nearby wall exploded inward, with thunderous noise, and all three of them were flung unceremoniously to the ground. Liana was quick to crab crawl her way behind a nearby caltrop. The Miqo’te woman had though she had seen a hint, the false gray of an image of the wall exploding, and she managed to roll with the hit, coming to rest on her hands and knees, shaken but uninjured.

Papanan had not been so lucky. She could see him nearby, staggered, blood flowing from a wound on his head. He was still conscious, and still moving; she saw him slowly try to lift himself off the ground, holding a hand to his fresh wound.

She also saw one of the hostile soldiers moving towards him.

She could see it, in her mind’s eye. Possibilities coalescing, appearing to her as greyscale images. Less likely ones were lighter in shade, threatening to vanish into nothing. More certain ones were darker, with sharper contrasts. It was as though she could see the soldier as they considered their options.

And then she saw one in particular coalesce, and she sprinted forward, intent on ensuring it could not happen.

The soldier’s sword came up just as she tackled Papanan out of the way, and behind her, she heard it clash as it hit the ground heavily, the soldier having spent too much energy in a heavy wind up for what he thought was a sure kill. She wrapped her body around Papanan to protect him, and planted her feet.

The aether called to her. The warmth was overwhelming, now. She could feel it in the air, she could feel it in herself. It was already alive, but just needed a bit more.

It just needed a spark, and a focus, and it would aspect into something more, something not at all etherial.

Power.

She was connected to the land through her stance. She was a conduit between the earth and the sky,  she was a pass through which the energy could flow. She could feel it whelming up within her now.

She spared a glance for the soldier, and she saw the future possibilities.

They all ended with his sword in her.

She closed her eyes, and ignited the power she felt within. It was hot, so hot. It felt sickly, sticky. It felt like so much pressure, needing release.

She just needed a focus, and she opened her eyes, and looked at her hand, and then, in a smooth motion, she swept her hand towards the soldier’s face before he could bring his sword down again.

She felt the power inside of her ignite, light up. It flowed into her violently, rushing, sweeping in from the ambient aether into her, where she pumped it, excited it, and it coalesced in the palm of her hand, a dark vibrating orb of barely restrained aspected aether. Black whisps of smoke poured out of her hand, and she saw it become partially unmade, the black vapors rapidly coalescing into the black sphere of energy that was sustained there.

And then the moment was over, as she snapped her focus to the soldier. The black sphere snaked away from her, faintly trailing its black mist, and slammed into him, igniting into a fireball. She heard it more than she felt it, a thunderous roar inside of her very self, and she felt it plenty, her hand continuing to be unmade in the aftermath of the spell.

The soldier fared far worse, however, as he was blasted back. He went down amongst the rubble, and stayed there.

She curled over on herself, grasping her hand to her chest, and she took deep, gulping breaths. Inside of her, she felt expanded, somehow. As though she could do that again, pull on somehow greater energies, could perhaps follow up with an even mightier spell. And if not for her hand, perhaps she might try-

Beneath her, Papanan groaned. She looked up to where she had last seen Liana, and saw Liana’s eyes go wide, but they were not looking at her. They were looking past her. She turned, and saw more soldiers in the breach.

She saw a cascade of future possibilities, and she did not like any of them.

She looked down at her hand. The effect on it had slowed, but still. She could see black wisping off of it still. She could see muscle and tendons. They were splotchy, disjointed, unnaturally unmade.

She took a deep breath in, and planted her feet again. She could feel the aether once more, hanging thick in the air. It was so close to ignition. It was excited. It was as though it wanted to be remade, repurposed.

As though it wanted to be made real just long enough to unmake everything.

She was dimly aware of tears drawing down her cheeks as she planted her feet, and drew in once more. The energy filled her again, and once more, demanded purpose, pressing against her insides, pushing itself out, crowding her, wanting to be set free.

She held it until she felt as though she might explode, and then she unleashed it once more, pointing her hand at the nearest soldier she could see. Again the black energy formed, but this time, it was mightier, more powerful.

And this time, it demanded more.

She watched as, seemingly in an instant, her entire forearm was unmade, the the entire world exploded into a roar she could not hear over. Black smoke poured off her forearm, disappearing into a sphere that shot towards the enemy, and then -

Explosion-

Fire-

Heat-

Destruction, all and more was delivered.

The world went to grays and sharp contrasts as she fell to the ground. She could not hear anything except the roar. Above her she saw Liana’s concerned face come into view. Lips moved, but she could not hear what they were saying. Papanan appeared shortly after, moving towards her, but looking away. He waved his arms animatedly, and both he and Liana were then looking, and she could see a few more soldiers, still approaching.

The first one she had spotted had been eager, running forward, bodies down, swords out. These ones were more cautious, shuffling forward slowly, shields up.

“RUN,” she yelled. Or she thought she did. Or she tried to. She wasn’t sure.

They should have left her. They should be leaving her. Why were they staying? Her arm was ruined, and she was weak from the exertion, and she was not worth risking themselves for, didn’t they know that?

She thought everyone knew that.

She was having problems seeing the possibilities, now, but one more entered her mind. If Papanan and Liana wouldn’t abandon her, wouldn’t run from it, there was one more thing she could try. And perhaps it could stop her arm from continuing to be unmade, as she was certain she could still feel it unravelling.

She placed her one good hand on the ground, closed her eyes, and focused. She imagined a little circle around her and Papanan and Liana which was inviolate, but beyond that, she could reach out, and feel the aether, still excited, still rushing, still roaring.

All she had to do was try to control it once more, but this time, instead of encouraging it, to discourage it. To calm it down. To bring it into the ultimate form of focus and order.

To still it, and freeze the world.

She could feel the energy flows inside of her slow, and then reverse, sluggishly at first, but then quicker, shifting to a different aspect. She could feel her body grow colder, she could feel ice forming on her skin, but she could not stop. She had to do this one last thing.

The aether built up, but it was different this time. She could feel it, in a circle around her. It just needed focus. She sucked a deep breath in, and then held it.

Everything slowed for her.

And then, with a crack, the ice snapped into existence, a thousand thousand shards, and exploded.

The roar in her ears was overwhelming, now, and she could take no more. She felt her skin split in a dozen dozen places. She was broken, she was battered, and she had done all that she could do, more than she thought she knew how, but…

It would be alright.

Papanan and Liana would be safe.

She collapsed as the roar reached the heavens and the world went to a steady slate of gray.

[bloodredhands]

1. Watching a meteor shower (but with extra FF14 angst around meteor showers)

He had seen many things in his time. He had played a hand in them, all the same. A dog of Garlemald, another hound in the masses of their armies they would set upon Savages. It had come to its apex. Castrum Novum, a stronghold built on the fringes of enemy lines in a place they called Mor Dhona. There they sought to bring ruin and chaos to the people of Eorzea. If they would not fall to the rule of the Empire. They would simply fall.

He did not agree, of course. His stomach turned at the very idea of bringing down the moon of Dalamud upon the land. His ears fell low and his expression solemn when the call was made, and the transmission began. Of course he understood very little of the magiks and the technology that had been used. He’d heard whispers of Alag, but he knew little of who or what that may be. He knew little of anything going on. Just that he was there, to serve his Legionnaire.

When the alarms would blare loud as intruders and hostels had come to spoil the plans of Nael van Darnus, he was… relieved. He slipped away into darkness and out of sight so he may spare those who wished to save their lands. He did not want to be the reason that their world would come to an end, no.

These things were never so simple though, were they?

Whatever transpired was… unknown. A spell, a heavy and powerful spell of ancient words and learnings, would continue to pull the moon of Dalamud on its descent, even though the transmitter was destroyed. Even though Nael is dead. The remnants of the legion, as well as any reinforcements in the area had been called forthwith to disrupt the enemy. They wished to undo Naels work, and they were ordered to not let that come to fruition.

Eorzea must fall, no matter the cost. No matter the destruction or the lives that may be lost, from both sides. Eorzea must fall.

Utterings of a madman. But the threat of the collar around his neck as always, spurred him into action. His sword in hand, he would join the masses in war, once more. He moved swiftly, his blade would strike true to heart - no one was left to suffer by his hand. They would find an easy death, a quick one. His movements are autonomous, monotonous. He just did. His mind was not focused on his task.

He couldn’t help but wonder. How long had he been fighting under the Garlean banner? Too long. Too long had he let them tell him what to do because he was too afraid. In the beginning he was not. In the beginning he fought back. He bared his teeth and he screamed and snarled and refused to bow to them.

Ah, but they had broken him, had they not? They broke his spirit, his strength, his pride and his duty. They let him be swallowed by despair and his fury and these thoughts would fester and the man would convince himself that he was not good enough. He was never good enough. And he got everything he deserved. He was a monster, they had made him into one.

Eyes closed behind his visor, though his movements still kept going. The burning around his neck a solid reminder of the pain he would feel if he did not comply. Pain could motivate people to do the worst things.

Across the noise of the battlefields, the shouting and the clash of weapons, explosions of canons and magitek. He heard it, they heard it. The roar of the atmosphere as it would bend to the impending doom of the falling moon, then the deafening crack of what sounded like earth splitting, over and over, that deep and distorted crunch of earth and metal breaking apart.

The fighting had stopped. The air grew warm, thick…. Heavy with dread. Weapons were dropped and eyes lifted up to bear witness to the heavens.

A sight no one could describe, or recall so vividly again. Many would not want to. The streaking shards of metal that came screaming from the sky in burnt up fury. His blood red eyes skimmed across each hue of molten gold that came pouring down, like the stars themselves were falling. Ezekiel recalled a meteor shower he had seen - while he had seen many, the higher into the Mountains you were the clearer your view, and some were fantastic and breath taking to just sit and watch.

This was neither of those things. This was… terror and death of a calamatous measure. This was the beginning of the end.

Ehehehehhe I raise your FF14 meteor angst and give you this!!! Thanks for the prompt @kiaranwrath!! <3

[the-wanted-man]

Comrades-in-Arms .II

Warnings: Potential 5.x spoilers regarding Garlemald. Part [1] Imperial Garlemald | Levi’s Theme

“The whole damn country’s gone to hell in a hand-basket, boys. Now, I don’t, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, say this to be an alarmist but...just look at the facts. Losing royalty left and right. People disappearing in the dead of night. I mean I love this country as much as any true son but we’re eating ourselves from the inside out, and it doesn’t seem to matter what side you’re on anymore.  I know you can feel it. The noose tightening in around the neck. The cross-hairs on the back. We’re coming up to the point of no return. Loyalist...or otherwise.”

The windstorm comes on much quicker than they’d anticipated and it makes those last few malms a miserable journey for the small unit. Even fully suited the harsh winds cut through the layers of their like phantom swords and moving became a matter of necessity to keep the chill at bay. Even silver-spoon Leviticus found it necessary to walk eventually.

Companionable moods from even minutes before seemed to lessen at the same rate their visibility did. The snowy haze of the blizzard made seeing more than five fulms ahead a near impossible feat after a time and were it not for the pulsing red light of the old guard tower beacon ahead they might’ve surely been lost to the white.

Eventually, they came upon an impenetrable wall of steel that seemed to simply rise up out of the snow. It wasn’t exactly the kind of sight that most would consider welcoming with its clinically grey exterior, and structured lighting that barely seemed to shine through the thick coat of hoarfrost that had built upon its metal surface. What bliss it would be to leave this place behind.

“Now, talk of insurrection is on the winds...and I’m not saying I support it but I DO understand it. You’re kidding yourself too, if you think I’m the only one who sees how this is going to get. Everyone’s thinking it, even if no one’s out right saying it. I mean...civil war...When its neighbor against neighbor....friend against friend...Brother against brother...It’s only a matter of time before you have to -really- start asking yourself -- Well, who can you really trust?”

A kind of tense silence seems to sweep over the convoy by the time the magitek vehicle rolls to a halt in front of the castellum gates. It starts as the usual routine first: the declaration of ranks, unit and business into a blue screen that takes their information. .

Albina quo Silvius. XIth Auxilliary. Supply drop.

The terminal flashes, and then beeps in acceptance of the credentials provided. With an almighty, groaning, screech of moving metal, the barricade begins to lower itself. Sinking into the earth like some kind of retreating monolith.The ice along its frame spider-webs and cracks, before falling away.

They are waved through, just past the barricades where two armed guards walk forward to greet them. Little more than a skeleton crew was necessary to keep the checkpoint appearing operational. Papers were exchanged and one guard points something out to verify it with the other. They nod, and then the first guard lifts his rifle up to Bastille’s chest, and fires twice.

“Times like this, might SEEM like you can’t trust anyone at all. Like you got to keep your guard up to keep the knife from sticking in your back. Like its all you can do to keep it from twisting... You might even feel like you’re alone. Like the whole world is pitted against you. Well, I’m here to tell you that you are NOT alone. There’s people you can trust. ”

It was absolute chaos.

Gunfire erupts from behind them and the team scatters. Albina shoves Quintus just as the second guard opens a volley of fire where he’d previously been sitting. Her weapon is drawn, and she cuts down one of the soldiers before he can fire again.

Tatius tackles one of the castellum guards as two more flank them from the gates. Cicero dives for cover, taking Levi with him as he goes. He screams for Crispus to radio for help while they’re pinned down by fire. Leviticus thanks the man by flossing the space between his ears with a bullet.

His unit starts to fall, one by one. Tatius manged to take on with him before he is pulled into a chokehold and he struggles until he doesn’t. Everything happens so fast, Albina barely has time to process as she pulls her blade from the body of an imperial soldier. It begins to dawn on her though, as she turns to her treacherous fiance.

“What did you do?”

“Matter fact, they’re right here in this very room. Take a look around boys, to the left, and to the right of you. Ahead and behind. Look around and witness them - your family! Us who’ve slept together. Who’ve bled together...Killed together.  -Trust- in them. Your fellow brothers-in-arms. Trust...in me.”

She knows before they’re even at each others throats. She knows the man she’d intended to marry so well she empowers him in moments and backs him blade tip first into the caravan. She knows that somehow this is his fault and doesn’t understand how she could have been so blind.

Leviticus only answers with a shameless smirk, but she catches the flick of his silver eyes and turns in time to be impaled by Crispus. He had always been quiet, and she had thought, dependable. She realized now, just not to her. Albina slumps to the ground. The battle is over and the damage done as quickly and as suddenly as a lightning strike.

The world starts to muffle and fade into black. Albina hears her fiance say “Took your sweet time.” As he brushes off his uniform and looks to the two remaining guards. He steps over her body, pausing long enough to tell her “Consider this an end to our engagement, darling. It’s not that its me, it’s just that it’s you. Quintus -- you can come out from hiding now.”

Harsher blows couldn’t be dealt as the young medic crawls out from the mud and snow, shivering as he stands and looks Albina in the eyes as they close. “R-really, Levi. Sh-she was your fiance.”

“I know! What was I thinking? Marriage never would have suited me.” 

“You see, commitment is important. How long have we been at this -game-, Family? Four years? Five? Because that’s what it comes down to. Our lives, are a -game- to...to these people! Heartless, and arrogant leaders who care more about their image than those who make them -look- good...Who are so quick to kill their own loyal brothers and sisters, if it makes them look good. Greedy, selfish leaders. That’s what they are.”

“Load those supply crates in that freighter there. We’ll need all the money we can get across the border and these weapons will flip for a pretty gil piece there. Especially now.” 

Equipment is quickly  transferred and stored within the cargo hold of a small airship, none of which Levi lifted so much as a finger for. The ship itself was weaponless luxury class and couldn’t pass for militaristic if it tried. Too spacious. Too comfortable. Being royalty had its perks, and no one said escaping couldn’t be done in style.

“Did we really have to...do all this?”  Leviticus looked over to Quintus, who stood anxiously over the body of Bastille. He seemed like he was having second thoughts, and Levi couldn’t have that.

“Having doubts, are we? You know they never would have hesitated for us. Even my loving fiance was too committed to the country for us to ever work. It still hurt me, having to do this to them. Him though...I never liked Bastille. It might be terrible but..It’s true. He always acted like he was...better than all of us. Better than you.”  Bastille croaks and Levi considers it the definition of a corpse turning in its grave.

“I...oh jeez, I think he’s still alive..?”

Leviticus passes the young man a knife. “You said you could kill for a bath, right? Well, how bad did you want it?”

"Was it those officers starving in the cold beside us while they shouted orders from the back lines? Hm? Was it them? Huddling in the trenches, never knowing if  they’d see the light of day? Do you think they care? What about the people. We serve citizens that don’t even care for the sacrifices we make. Who spit on us when we marched in the cities. They don’t know what we had to do, to survive. What we -will- do.”

They staged the scene, positioning the bodies of their fellows more deliberately. Stripped the castellum of its valuable supplies and spilled a trail of ceruleum around the encampment with whatever excess they could find.

A more immediate guess once discovered might lead the assumption of an encounter with savages and he relied on the fact that resources would be stretched too thin to make an in-depth investigation. It wasn’t perfect but it would do.

The four loaded themselves onto the new convoy, an airship no bigger than standard fare civilian transport and luggage but it was enough for them and  their haul. At the hatch, Leviticus turned to look behind him. Struck a match off his chest, and tossed it into the shimmering pool of oil. Blue fire spreads like spilled ink over thin cloth. Leviticus leaves brimstone in his wake, and it makes him feel divine.

If he can do this, he can do anything.

“The hand that claims to feed, has only ever taken away. Everything we did, we did for nothing. But I promise you...if you follow me...if you trust me...trust the man on your left, and on your right...Nothing, is what’s going to stand in our way.

The ship full of defectors takes off from a blazing outpost and veers off into the distant sky.

                                            To be continued...                                                    

[rolanberry-rebel]

Windows to the Soul

With one look into the eyes, a clever negotiator can see everything - hesitation, fear, anxiety, hubris. Few things help you distinguish the wheat from the chaff like the eyes.

As a little girl, the other kids in the neighborhood relentlessly teased Maritsa - for her scrawny stature; how her parents’ poverty left her to wear dirty rags in the street, but more than anything they teased her for her eyes - one hazel-brown and one emerald-green. To some simply a genetic quirk, but children are relentless, searching for any strangeness, any insecurity to single out and antagonize other children over.

As soon as she'd found enough gil lying in gutters to afford a pair, Maritsa began buying shaded spectacles to keep her deformity hidden. She learned young that with her eyes hidden, her pained reactions - frowns, tears - lost a key component of their meaning; with no subtle shift of the eyes from which to derive wicked joy, the children’s teasing began to subside. A pragmatic accessory she’d picked up as a mask against her tormentors began instead to alienate her peers - and, eventually, as Maritsa’s quick mind and ruthlessness expanded, they became a symbol of fear among the local children.

Now, Maritsa kir Vesicus had long ago abandoned those simple, cheap sunshades, trading them in for a molded-metal visor, its gold-flecked steel shrouding her odd-colored eyes completely. A trio of red lights fed the world in perfect detail into a viewscreen, filtering and looping and zooming and giving Maritsa both sight and insight greater than even the keenest pair of real eyes could. More importantly, though, they read Maritsa’s eyes - and with subtle twitches and blinks, a series of magitek relays fed orders straight from Mari’s gaze to the bitpack along her waist, granting preternatural control over a technology so powerful she’d not sell it for all the coin in the entire Garlean treasury.

When a man can’t see your eyes he can’t read you. When you’re in the business of negotiating arms sales to some of the most dangerous, bloodthirsty criminals, mercenaries and killers in all Hydaelyn, you need every advantage you can get. Some tried flattery and flirtation, others intimidation, but in the end all of them had a simple choice - pay the price Maritsa wanted, or end up her enemy. You didn’t want to be her enemy.

That fact appears to have escaped the man now standing toe-to-toe with the infamous arms dealer - a roegadyn quartermaster to a crew of pirates, and not the jolly, grog-swilling, sea-chantey types of pirates, either. A mountain of metal and muscle with a scar-crested grin on his face, the fearless lieutenant paced along his deck, inspecting the sleek black crates packed heavy with experimental mortals and magitek aethershells. The haul could easily give even the most cowardly and combat-inept crew the upper hand in a scuff with the Limsan navy, and the crew’s quartermaster appeared pleased.

“The cap’n ‘ad business, but rest assured lassie I act with ‘is full confidence,” the surly marauder barked, the head of his axe a rust-toned red, no doubt meant to intimidate onlookers with imagined tales of bloody battles won. The crew, assembled along the deck behind the quartermaster, whispered among themselves, a few evil grins shared in anticipation.

“Ten million. For one crate,” Maritsa stated flatly, her words giving as few clues as to her mental state as her shrouded eyes offered. Her visor blipped as it readjusted, feeding details of every single movement to the highlander. Her back stiff and her stance unflagging, the scummy laugh her offer elicited did little to dissuade her confident stance.

“Lassie, there’s scarce a cannon in all ‘a blasted Othard worth even one tenth ‘a that,” the quartermaster responded, his words oozing from between his scarred lips. “Yer insultin’ me crew. An’ me cap’n, who’d certainly ‘ave run ye through if he’d heard that. I’ll give ye a few moments to reconsider.”

“Don’t need even another second. Ten million per crate,” Maritsa repeated. The crew grew restless, clearly clamoring to teach the highlander a lesson. The quartermaster lifted a closed fist to calm them.

“Well, by ways of a little thinking, imagine fer me fer a second,” the roegadyn mused darkly. “Imagine a crew ‘o forty ‘a the nastiest, hungriest, dirtiest killers this side ‘a Vylbrand, starin’ ye down wi’ cutlass and pistol, an’ me at the front, each of us takin’ our piece of that ten million out on th’ haughty bitch who dared insult us twice,” he continued, bringing sadistic chuckles from the crew. “What’s t’ stop me from doin’ ‘at instead of payin’ yer ten million, huh?”

“Nothing stopping you from trying,” Maritsa answered, smirking. He couldn’t see the devil in the highlander’s eyes, hidden beneath the visor, which bleeped as it acquired its target. “Except maybe the shriveled little bits of flesh between your legs.”

“Wh-what? Ye little--” that really got him. The quartermaster moved fast, gauntleted fists grasping the haft of his axe and, in a fluid motion, ripping through a soaring arc downward towards the sword-tongued arms dealer. He may have been fast - but Mari was faster. Several minutes faster. She expected this.

All she needed was one look at his eyes.

Shock replaced fury in the roegadyn’s expression as his blade fell harmlessly against a barrier of force, now glowing soft blue at the power of the quartermaster’s brash blow. Safe behind her shield, Mari sighed.

“So predictable, and so boring,” she dismissed him, a subtle movement of her eyes and squeeze of her palm sending the signal to the bitpack at her waist. The device hummed suddenly to life, launching four darting high-power energy relays into the air. Before the quartermaster could blink the relays had surrounded him; each glowed and blipped quietly in sync, and flashed to life, an array of burning light vaporizing the roegadyn so fast he didn’t even have time to scream. When the blinding flash dissipated, only a pair of heat-scoured boots and a trail of dust remained where a towering mountain had once stood. The crew stood in sudden, awed silence as the darting relays floated silently back to their resting place at Mari’s waist.

“Now,” Mari stated plainly, “I’m going to take my crates with me back to the shore. Let your captain know I’m waiting for his response, will you?” she canted her head to the side, a sea of stunned, befuddled eyes watching her every motion. “Tell you what - let him know I’ll even give him a 3-mil discount on each crate, by ways of paying back for the quartermaster. Okay?” Still no response from the terrified crowd. “Hello, anyone?” Annoyed, she scoffed, dragging the mortar crates towards the deck’s rail, clicking a few buttons on her magitek bracer to call in her airship.

“Men,” she murmured, lifting her visor just long enough to roll her eyes at the dumbfounded pirates.

[serararku]

Where the Wild Things Are Pt 2

<Theme>

"The tall round-eared brutes came lurking through the night! With sharp blades and flat teeth!" Chronicler Nahe got on her hands and knees to crawl along the dirt, causing the children watching her performance to shudder and whisper amongst themselves. Her assistants came from around the bonfire, covering their ears with bandanas, using their tails to imitate belts, and with half-bowls tied against the sides of their heads to resemble Hyuran ears. "With anger and greed they sought to plunder Miqo'te treasures and sell the kittens to the tribeless cities!"

"Aarrrgh!" An assistant snarled, lunging at the huddled group; their startled squeals put a smile on Era's face, as nostalgia from when she was small enough to sit with them began to settle in. "Yaargh I'm gonna take you across the salt waters and make big profits from your tails! Yo-ho-ho!" One of them began stuffing a large woolen sack with hastily made dolls; seeing that sent some of the younger kittens into a panic, before their mothers sitting behind them calmed the children down.

Nahe let out a loud and exaggerated gasp. "But wait! Who's that in the distance?!" Another assistant slowly approached from the other end, her tail and ears uncovered.

"I am Era Rarku! Azeyma's champion and the greatest blade master that ever lived!" She pointed her straightened stick at the 'pirates' as the kittens cheered her on. "When I send you to your gods, tell them Azeyma gives her regards!"

The costumed group rushed the woman, swinging their fake weapons in wide and telegraphed attacks. She would barely tap her foes with the end of her stick, sending them flipping and twirling in the sand; one pirate got slapped on the foot, and she began hopping up and down while loudly hollering, much to the delighted laughter of the audience. The last pirate was wearing a barrel with a painted grimace on her head, and she slowly stumbled forward after everyone else was laying on the ground. The Era character spun around- carefully avoiding stepping on anyone's hands- before tapping the neck of the final foe; when the barrel dropped into the dirt, red paper confetti came bursting out of the injury, as the woman flailed her arms before collapsing alongside the others.

"With the evil pirate king defeated, the kittens were saved from a cruel and terrible fate!" Nahe bowed when the children cheered and the adults clapped, but she wasn't done yet. "Oh no! The cowards hiding in their black shells want revenge for their pirate friends!"

As the pirates rolled over and hurried out of the way, four more people came shuffling in from around the haze of the bonfire. These 'Garleans' wore thick layers painted black, with buckets on their heads to mimic their magitek armor. Loud booing from the children warmed Era's heart as she watched them scowl and hiss. One daughter in particular jumped to her feet, ran to the closest one, and gave her a good few kicks in the shin before her mother was able to scoop her up and carry her back to the group.

Nahe waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "So powerful and strong were the shelled men… that not even Azeyma's champion herself could take them alone! So she called others to aid her in this fight!"

One by one they came out in their costumes, the audience gasping, cheering, and clapping as they appeared. The first one carried a giant wooden mask shaped like the head of a black wolf, complete with a blazing torch for one eye, and an eyepatch covering the other. "Had-rel, the great Ash Wolf!" The second one shuffled in wearing pots and pans, with a thick bucket on her head. "Rond, the Iron Golem!" Next came a woman wreathed in flowing silk and satin, whose gloves were dipped in tar and set aflame. "Zaravi, Fist of the Falling Comet!" Last waddled in an assistant no older than ten summers old, wearing a cast iron pot on her head and dragging a club nearly twice her size. "And Cobbsy! The Halfling Hero!" 

Era couldn't help but laugh at the costumes resembling her friends attacking the ‘shelled men’. Pherond’s character was making robot sounds as she hammered away at a foe, Hadriel’s very loose depiction was too busy eating people and howling up at the moon, while R’zevi and Conobharo were simply spinning around in circles. Yet her own depiction lunged forward with the stick and slipped it under the arm of the last Garlean, causing the stick to accidentally break in her grasp. Era’s eyes glimmered as that dreadful memory returned in a blink- when she drove her blazing blade into the stomach of Virilus sas Tullus in her blind rage, and watched him choke on his own screams while he was slowly cooked alive from the inside out. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened, and she suddenly felt incredibly cold despite sitting comfortably close to the blazing bonfire. Yuun noticed her daughter’s reaction, and gently squeezed her hand; it was over, that nightmare was long over.

As the tribe’s applause filled her ringing ears, and the costumed villains and heroes alike bowed before departing, Chronicler Nahe waited once more until everyone had quieted down. “Yes. She faced kidnappers, pirates, brigands, bandits, and scoundrels. She stood strong against a hundred shelled men, and lived to tell the tale. But her greatest challenge was not some mere mortal… but a great and terrible beast! A voracious monster that wanted nothing more than to eat her and her friends!” Just as Era was beginning to calm down, her anxiety crept up the crevasse of her back; she didn’t think Nahe had the time or the resources to make a costume resembling that mutated dragon abomination. 

But when she saw it shamble out from the shadows and flame, relief washed over her as a smile crept along her lips.

It was the girl in the wolf head again, only this time it poorly resembled the head of a dragon. The little girl depicting Conobharo was back as well, armed with a short stick and her traditional Zu Tribe battlegarb; she was supposed to be Era, only this time much smaller, likely to help show how much larger that monster was to her. “Era Rarku pelted the beast with arrows, severed limbs upon limbs with straight blade, even lured it into carefully laid traps! But nothing could mortally wound this immortal foe! But how did she kill it? How did she live to tell the tale?!”

“She used a big rock!” Cried out a child.

“Fire! A raging fire!” Hollered another.

One of the quieter kittens eventually mumbled out, “M-... maybe she pushed it off a cliff? Or tied it up and buried it?”

“She used a really big rock! That was on fire! That rolled down from a cliff to bury it!”

The Chronicler chuckled with the rest of the adults before giving away the answer. “Ha-! No, no, no! Azeyma’s champion is mighty, true! But she is also terribly clever! If the thick hide could not be pierced, then…!”

The ‘dragon’ head suddenly opened its wide mouth and chomped down on the little girl, with several hands scooping her off the ground to pull her into the costume. Half of the children cried out in shock, as the toddlers began frightfully squealing and panicking again. “MMMmmmm…!” Hummed the beast, rubbing its bloated stomach. “Yummy! That’s some gooooooooood eating! Hahaha! Now, where can I find more kittens to devou- oh… oh no! I’ve got such a tummy ache…! W-what’s happening to meeeEEeeeEEEeeeEEEEAAAAGH?!”

The little warrior burst out from the creature’s stomach, covered in red and orange rope. The kittens cheered her on as she pulled on the entrails, causing the twitching monster to fall onto its side and let out a comically exaggerated death rattle. Soon the whole tribe was clapping and cheering- everyone but Era. 

“Mmmn... not exactly how I told her the stories.” She mumbled, thoroughly amused yet disappointed. “She’s making it sound like I’m some sort of legend, but... almost none of this is true.”

“There’s enough truth in it to make it count.” Her mother assured, squeezing her hand. “Her job is to inspire the children in hopes they will accomplish great things. It’s no different than the stories she used to tell you.”

“To Era Rarku!” Chronicler Nahe pointed at her, snapping her out of her dazed stupor. “To the victorious champion!” Soon everyone’s eyes were upon her, with many urging her to step forward; even her mother let go of her hand and let her rise to her feet.

A tingling shiver crawled up her spine as she stood there, tail bristled and ears flat. Era didn't know what to say- she never once thought the whole of the tribe would shower her with so much praise. "I-I don't have a speech prepared…"

"Show everyone your fire sword!" Yuun shouted, sending another wave of excited cheers through the crowd. "Show us how you defeated the shelled men!"

Era quickly placed her hands together in rapid succession, performing the right mudra through muscle memory. When she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her katana, pulled the shimmering blade from its sheath, and held it aloft in the air, the dancing flames from the bonfire leapt forth to swallow her weapon whole. Then Era spun her fire-wreathed katana in a dazzling flourish, showering the sand around her feet with sizzling embers. Her family cheered again, with the kittens jumping up and down with joy; it was remarkable how easily impressed they were, but it only made sense- mudra and magicka enchantments are only truly common in the far east. Era had turned a bright shade of pink when she slowly slipped her burning blade back into its sheath. All this attention was starting to get into her head, and the rush from everyone's adoration was beginning to give her a high she could get used to. As she slowly slid her blazing blade into its sheath to snuff the flames, something just within her peripheral vision caught her attention.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him; she didn’t recognize him at first- all hunched down in a pathetic attempt to remain unnoticed- but the moment their eyes met, a scorching heat burned in her stomach and was well on its way to rising out of her throat. 

Denoh.

He still looked like a mangy bastard, only older than the last time she saw him, and shorter than she remembered. This was the coward who poisoned Tage’s meal before their duel, the boy responsible for banishing him and ultimately sending him to his death. The black leather collar around his neck could only mean one thing- he was defeated by a Tia, yet denied an honorable death. Seeing him slumped over and dripping with shame didn’t give her the peace she wanted- in fact it only made her angrier; no way in hell could this feeble rat ever hope to defeat anyone in a fair fight. It was because of him that Era left her tribe to find a real man in the first place. No Tia who relied on dirty tricks and sabotage should live to regret it. Denoh breathed the sweet air of decent folk, walked on the same ground as her family, and lived in the perpetual shadow of better men. Allowing him to live is an affront to everything Era worked toward, and the need to wet her blade with the blood of traitors, monsters, and cowards alike came back with a vengeance. She didn't even hear her family quiet down, nor the heavy footsteps approaching from her flank.

Just the dizzying pounding of her own heart, and that low, steady ringing.

"Not in front of my children." A deep voice cut through the cheering and dropped the area in a sudden silence. Era whipped around to find herself standing before the second-tallest Miqo'te she had ever seen. Muscle upon muscle clenched beneath his mahogany skin and ritualistic scars, and behind his long shaggy brown hair burned a pair of eyes the color of Dalamud in its final days.

"A-are you…?" Era fumbled with her words.

"Yes. My name is Vahli. You must be Yuun's firstborn." He slowly approached her, keeping his red eyes fixed on her form. This giant of a man towered over Era when he neared close enough to touch. He then circled her like he was a starving coeurl, and when his fingers brushed against her shoulders or ran down locks of her hair, a chill shot up her spine like lightning. "Era, right? We'll talk more after the feast."

"O-okay…" she whimpered, never taking her eyes off him while he approached the roasting boar. When she peeled her eyes away from him long enough to glance at her mother, she was greeted with an encouraging smile and a wink.

Vahli pulled a long bone knife from a leather strap on his hip, grabbed a juicy haunch with his bare hand, and began carving the boar into pieces. He fed the kittens first, of course; none of them were his, but luckily their trust could be bought at a low, yet tasty, price. Next came his wives, who got the biggest helping of the hindquarters of the entire tribe. Every woman was served more than they could reasonably eat- everyone but Era; in fact, her Nuhn didn't even give her a passing glance when he offered a choice cut to her mother. After that awkward exchange, the warrior women invaluable during battle and on hunting parties were served next, getting the more lean parts of the pig. He served whatever was left to the slaves: the feet, ears, cheek meat, and sinew. Even Denoh got enough to make it through the night. 

"Enjoy the feast." Vahli spoke, sweeping his gaze across their faces. He then settled his gaze on her mother before adding, "You know where to find me."

"She won't be long." Yuun assured him, slipping her daughter a piece of her dinner once he turned his back to return to his chambers. "Come with me, sweetie. It's time to freshen you up for your fateful evening."

---

Mentions: @hadriel-ffxiv​, @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​, @conobharo-cobharo-xiv​