#namely Ishgard and Garlemald

[picaroroboto]

the thing about Solution Nine is that you get used to it - my brother who also plays disliked it from the start because of the aesthetic clash, but I had no such problem. okay it's a little less comfy than other endgame cities because it's main hub is literally a shopping mall, but I like the music and the vibes and the purple, and the NPCs are all pretty happy and chill.

and then you remember or realize that. oh yeah the Alexandrians are happy and chill because they've all got chips in their brains that delete memories of the dead within minutes of their passing. they're refugees from an electric apocalypse but they can't really come to terms with that because they're not equipped to deal with grief.

the people are no longer under threat from Zoraal Ja and his army, and outsiders can come and go as they please, but it is still a dystopia.

[voidsentprinces]

Reminder: A Realm Reborn wasn't particularly about us. It was about the Eorzean Factions, it was about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and their interactions with and thwarting Gaius and the XIVth Legion. We were just a useful champion slowly growing to fame but not truly a Warrior of Light until literally the prelude to the Castrum raiding mission.

The Parting of Glass wasn't about us either. It was, once again, about the world. And how it had begun changing after Gaius's fall and the brief period of peace away from Garlemald's Shadow. About Alphinaud beginning his arc of growth with hubris and the creation the Crystal Braves and what it might of looked like IF the Scion's good nature was lent to anyone and everyone. And thus opening itself up to the very corruption Minfilia feared to move away from the Waking Sands and to the Rising Stones in the first place.

Heavensward isn't about us. It is about Alphinaud's continue growth, learning of Ishgard's past and history. Hubris, arrogance and narrow viewing lead Alphinaud to steps of the Foundation, it has lead Estinien astray and made Ysayle believe she is a messiah incarnate. And through the journey, each of them grow as they learn the terrible truth about the Dragonsong War. Estinien in particular has his eyes opened and no longer simply seeks revenge on Nidhogg but to get to the bottom of it all. So no other shepherd's son has to live as he has. Ysayle learns she is a shade and a faux Shiva not truly Hraesvelgr's beloved or even in the same category as her. She learns swallow such delusions and embrace what Saint Shiva stood for in its entirety. Which means leaning to lay the road for peace between Ishgard and the Dragons and opening a path to this by sacrificing herself for those she loved so dearly. Alphinaud learns from all of this and more and is humbled by the duty of a knight, the fervor of a dragoon, the sacrifice of a saint, and the courage of his companions and of Sharlayan's arrogance from Master Matoya. To put others before himself and allow others to support him when he falls.

The Far Edge of Fate isn't about us. It was about how Ishgard carries on after Thordan and the Heavens Ward are shown to be the monsters they are. How the remnants of the church, the knights of Ishgard, and the civilian population react to the realization with rejection. How facing off against Nidhogg possessing Estinien, the Warriors of Darkness, and the machinations of Ilberd force Eorzea and Ishgard to look inward and know truly where they should go from there. To ignore the easier road and take the higher path no matter the strife and hardship it provides them. Because when they reach the otherside they would be better for it. Finding that courage, after five years of procrastinating and hemming and hawing, the Eorzean Alliance finally begin to mobilize to free Ala Mhigo from Garlemald and perhaps take on the Empire itself.

Stormblood isn't about us. It is about Doma and Ala Mhigo fighting for the survival of their people and cultures. Facing the parts of their society that were spurned and used as tools of hatred against their principles. That provided the necessary cracks required for Garlemald to break them down and oppress them in the first place. And how reforging under those values and those long histories of violence can make a new path and come to terms to over throw the tyrants who fed on their weakened states and make a strong unity still.

A Requiem of Heroes wasn't about us, it was about the world facing down the barrel of war with Garlemald. And uncovering its origins, its founding father was an Ascian. How Varis is forced to face down the lie as Elidibus wears the skin of his son and the great grandfather he and other Garleans were taught was a walking god in all but name was a sham and a daemon bent on causing more pain and suffering than mankind ever deserved. How the effigies of hate and pain choose to use their fervor to help their people instead of turning against them once more. How every person can change and be given a second chance. How that second chance is what that person requires or if they are pushed the wrong direction, can caused tragedy to unfold. And lastly, it is about our companions, slowly. One by one. Being dragged to the unknown. The story slowly taking away the players on the stage until finally...

Shadowbringers was about us. It was about how we were instrumental to the world so much that it lost nearly all hope in another timeline. How a group of your fondest friends began and how your comrade's furthest decendents acting on the hope of your legend and stories. To provide a plan of action and lead to happier world. How even when everything seems lost and gone and your purpose seems to turned everything around you into twisted monstrosities. That you can bring the night and wait in comfort for a dawn to bring better days. And the tenacity of your aid providing a world on the brink, the love, the compassion, the understanding, the strength, and the will to stand up to a flood of destruction and spit fate in the eye. Even it costs them everything, they keep fighting until they can see a brighter tomorrow.

Death unto Dawn was about what the tomorrow brings. How it could be another fight but to find what is WORTH fighting for. The memories of those you fight and lived amongst, old studies and things of the past being made to provide the answer to the future, making right wrongs even against those you had wronged unfairly, and to gather together and keep each other safe. You are not alone out here. There are those who will help you along to a brighter future.

Endwalker was about you and yours. About how everyone reacts to an uncertain future in different manners. How some would make ready to flee at the approaching storm, while others would fight, and others might even push you further to the edge. But even when all is lost, call upon the memory of happier times to light the way with hearts aligned shining brilliantly against despair and finding your place amongst those memories.

Growing Light was about us teaching another to hear, feel, and think and experience the world seemingly gone. That everything needn't be give or take. It can be a charitable, warmer place if we make it. It can be kinder and even in the face of unrelenting and undying destruction. Hope will spit out a tooth and stand up once more.

I say all of this because, I've seen people mad that Dawntrail is leaning hard about being about Wuk Lamat and others. To which I say so what if Dawntrail is about Wuk Lamat and Koana? So what if its not about us? We've had four story lines about us. Now we must impart what we've learned to the future as they face similar and sometimes overwhelming odds. To stand tall against the onslaught and make their own choices, their own way to bring a smile to all they hold dear. How family needn't be blood related, they can just be a group who sit down at the table at the end of the day. And speak, laugh, cry, and love. Unto this trail to dawn we shall light way for the future of our world and everything this new dawn brings is worth it.

[uldahstreetrat]

Im trying to take note of real world influences in XIV for some projects going forward, like languages used in areas (French names in Ishgard, Roman terms in Garlemald) or like in aesthetics I suppose (like Radz-at-han in particular reminds me of Istanbul), and I'd like to hear others' thoughts about those kinds of influences that they've noticed

(little more context on things im working on under the cut)

right now this has a lot to do with things like stamps lmao I have in fact gotten kinda into stamp collecting now and I'd like to design some for XIV areas based on similar irl counterpart countries? like regular stamps and stuff like a sort of Garlean version of US postal war savings stamps? so having irl countries to reference for stamp styles would be helpful to like figure that stuff out

and honestly all of this is just part of making a physical copy of Q'ihnn's journal more complicated than it needs to be but never let it be said that I dont have a love of unnecessarily dense world building

plus by having a list of reference countries I can also build out other kinds of like, souvenirs? in the journal from the places visited across msq - a lot of things I see people keep in journals, especially travel ones, are stuff like wrappers or other packaging, pieces of maps, receipts (that's its own rabbit hole ive gone down), ticket stubs, and other various little paper things along with photos and drawings (which are much easier to manage in comparison)

cause a lot of this shit doesnt extensively exist within the game often beyond a mention in a stray line of dialogue or two so there's advantages to having irl cultural and historical reference to make something that feels real - plus im often off in lala fantasy land in my head because im stuck at home a lot, im not exactly well traveled, so im sure its easy for me to miss especially like language use in certain areas (I didnt even notice how French Ishgardian names were until someone else made a joke about it, it just doesnt occur to me)

like some of these influences are fairly obvious, right, like Doma and Kugane being Japanese inspired and Greek influence around Sharlayan (which the Greek/Roman dichotomy that Sharlayan and Garlemald have going on is its own whole thing I could go into btw they're so similar yet different in such interesting ways) - but places like Ul'dah?? not a clue. Ala Mhigo? no idea. The Crystarium and Eulmore in the first??? oh I'd put my head through a wall trying to thing of a real world counterpart for reference

granted now having said that someone is going to point out something obvious that I just entirely missed some way or another lmao but like that's why im asking, right? anyway if you have nerd ass thoughts too just hit me up

[graha-stan-account]

Asdfghjkl

Here's a more expansive list of nations because within the first hour I was shown all the places I left off 😂 (Now with more response time!!) It's not EXHAUSTIVE, but has more robust choices, I promise.

[stars-and-clouds]

Okay guys but think about Aymeric for a minute.

He is adopted into a family of nobles when he comes from, possibly, a low born mother who was possibly forced into sleeping with a powerful man like Thordan. Had to keep quiet about it and possibly lose her son right after giving birth. Aymeric grew up hearing rumours about being a bastard, about not deserving his life, about how lucky he is, how he was probably a mistake.

And now he is the only one alive to carry on the Borel name, becomes the lord commander of the temple knights at a very young age, then lord speaker of Ishgard, slayer of Fafnir, unifier of dragons and men after a thousand year of war. All this while he grows up hearing he will never be good enough. Imagine how insecure that must make him. Having achieved so much will not make him think "wow, I really am amazing. Sure showed them!" It will just stress him out even more, thinking he can't do it, he isn't capable enough to carry these responsiblities out, not deserving enough to. In fact, idk if we've ever seen him being proud of himself or even happy? Doesn't he always want to jump to the next task? He is too humble for someone in his position, sometimes it's like he doesn't believe he is actually as good as he is said to be.

I think this is shown by his decision to give up his position as lord commander as soon as they finish dealing with Nidhogg. Like, he will do his duty and stop. Because he doesn't think he can do it anymore. He thinks he is not important enough so he goes to confront his father by himself in the lion's den itself, so to speak. Practically kills his father, almost kills his best friend to do his duty, brings about peace and much needed change and gets stabbed for it. How shit must that make him feel about himself?

Aymeric is so good at being a well spoken, smooth politician, we forget to see how broken he must really be inside and he is all alone. Even Lucia isn't with him anymore, having to stay at Garlemald.

The way his eyes light up every time he sees the warrior of light, calling them 'my friend,' every second sentence, as if pleading to be called the same. Writing to Estinien whenever he can, having a deep wanderlust and adventurous spirit but being unable to fulfil it. He is so much like G'raha in this sense but unlike him, Aymeric hasn't gotten his happy ending yet.

The man is so alone but so dutiful. So insecure but so good at hiding it. He craves connection but his duty forces him to be unable to make it. I cannot imagine how hard he has it.

He needs hugs 😭

[coldshrugs]

hi Azia! since I'll probably never play FFXIV but want to gobble up everything you've ever written or will write for Io and Estinien, I was wondering if you could kind of summarize or describe the context for their relationship in the canon universe. what do I need to understand about their history in order to better appreciate the way they fit? how do they meet and what brings them together? are there some universal truths for each WoL that heavily contribute to who Io is (kind of like how Hawke in DA2 loses half their family, or every Shepard in Mass Effect is deadish for two years)?

no pressure to answer if you don't have the time/energy or just plain don't want to! ok thanks love you bye 💙

🧍

Hi Ells. I am so sorry....

Understanding Estinio

General World Lore: The story of XIV begins five years after a Calamity (an event of large-scale devastation that leaves the land and people struggling to recover). This is the seventh Calamity over a period of 13,000 years. Other notable world happenings are:

the Dragonsong War: a war between man and dragon that has raged in and around Ishgard for one thousand years

the more recent advancement of the Garlean Empire: Garlemald is a technologically advanced nation seeking to "unite" the world under its rule

Warrior of Light Things: The player character is almost a completely blank slate. Their appearance and combat proclivities are entirely up to the player! Their backstory is not really mentioned, and the only thing we know about them from the start is that they're an Adventurer, which in this setting is someone who wanders here and there, helping with whatever odd jobs they can in hopes of earning a living and maybe some local fame too. A little network of unionized Hometown Heroes. But some things hold true for most WoLs (headcanons notwithstanding):

They have a gift called The Echo. A few other characters have the gift, but it can manifest differently from person to person. The WoL's Echo allows them to visit scenes from the past, sometimes through the eyes of another and sometimes as a kind of bodiless spectator, usually triggered by high emotion from a person or place. It also has a few other functions.

They join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, an organization that's a bit of an open secret, determined to stop Primal summoning (Primals are replications of gods, the will of a people made manifest, and they are powerful and destructive. If most people venture too close, they become enthralled). Recruited for their prowess in combat (or healing, maybe, if you're not Io) and apparent inability to be tempered by Primals, they, of course, become the team's most powerful asset.

Io Laithe is my WoL, a viera born in the Garlean-occupied region of Dalmasca. When she was 19/20, her home village suffered a violent raid, and her family was lost. She managed to escape and flee far to the west. At the beginning, she's around 29 and an accomplished archer, among other things. Io endures more loss over her story, friends and lovers, and she blames herself over and over. She struggles to lay down her grief and represses her anger for so long that she almost loses herself to it at one point, but she claws her way back with the help of her friends. She's soft-spoken, and reserved, but is also deeply kind and surprisingly funny. (This paragraph is short but I feel like I talk about her so much lmao. Trying not to gush too hard)

Estinien Varlineau was born to a family of sheepherders, in a small farming community outside Ishgard. When he was 12, his village was razed to the ground in a dragon attack. He found the charred remains of his parents outside his home (his dad had tried to shield his mom from the dragon fire). His younger brother was inside, trapped under a collapsed beam but already gone. He was the only survivor, and was taken in by a man named Alberic who held the title of Azure Dragoon (the most powerful lance-wielder in the land, but I'll spare you the specifics. There's dragon-y magic and a literal dragon eye that gives them powers. This was supposed to be quick omfg). Estinien swore to avenge the deaths of his family and trained with Alberic, eventually becoming the next Azure Dragoon. Eventually, he gets his vengeance, but the cost is so much more than he expects. At the end of it, he is begging for his own death, but his friends (the WoL included) refuse to let him go out like that and save him. He's since been on a journey of self-discovery; who is he without the drive to avenge those he lost, without his duty or his post? In personality, Estinien is blunt and abrasive, he cannot read a room (but he would like to leave it). He has a sharp sense of humor and often teases his few friends, he's extremely sentimental, he's very protective of the people he cares for, and can't stop himself from helping a kid in need.

Relationship Summary

They overlook each other at first. Io finds Estinien too harsh and rude. He thinks (since she is seeing Haurchefant at the time, who is... affiliated with a noble house of Ishgard) that Io is another pretty girl grabbing at coattails--surely not the "great warrior" he's heard about. And it takes a journey into dragon country for them to warm up to each other, when he learns she can easily hold her own, and she sees how protective and kind he can be to their traveling companions. They become friends and it's easier than either of them expected. They don't talk about their loss with each other though, not for a long time. Both hear the other's story from someone else, and it endears them to each other, an unspoken, invisible bond in addition to what they've already faced together. Just as Io saved him at the end of the Dragonsong War, Estinien saves her when she faces off against the might of Garlemald and almost dies. It's a long time before she gets to thank him for that, but when she does, it's around the time he agrees to join the Scions too. They spend more time together, and they become almost inseparable. And as the world hangs on the brink of what seems to be another Calamity, they quietly fall in love and almost lose each other again. Neither confesses to the other until things have settled down. But once the confessions are out of the way, they easily fall into warm domesticity. They spend the better part of a year mostly in one place, living together, working together, making the smaller trips they need to but always returning to a home base. Now, there's the itch to travel again. They just pulled a stint of traveling separately but ended up in the same place. He very much wants to continue roaming, and Io does too, but part of her is starting to think about a family. I haven't decided when or if they talk about this lmao. They love each other so much, but both have a strong streak of wanderlust, and both are legendary heroes who belong to the world as much as they belong to each other.

Why they compel me:

I don't know if you guys know this about me but I love to think about grief :> It's the shared trauma, the love transformed into anger, and how new bonds can heal someone. I did not plan for Io's backstory to be so similar to Estinien's, and even before I shipped them, their friendship was a highlight for me. I love that they do most of their recovery on their own. I love that they always come back to each other. Big fan of people who might not appear outwardly soft all the time, but are just SO mushy for their partner.

They are both symbols of hope for their people, for better or worse. They understand that about each other, what it's like to have some of your personhood stripped away so you can embody an ideal.

Estinien is impulsive and straightforward, Io is cautious and thoughtful. He pushes her, and she grounds him. They both relish the peace the company of the other brings, and they are more certain of the other's ability and resolve than they are of themselves. They are best friends, they are family, and they admire each other.

Some key reads, chronologically:

close quarters | oh no, she's hot…

oblivious | a mutual friend notices io and estinien seem… different.

what i see in you, i hope you find in me | io realizes she is not in love with zenos

pang | estinien has his own realization

see you in the morning | the night before they depart towards unknown danger, estinien tries to soothe a worried io

in this state | io is unconscious, estinien keeps watch

mustering | estinien tells io about his brother, the first time he's talked about him in decades

take another step off the edge | FIRST KISS!!!!

And then their tag is filled with gposes I've made, art I've commissioned, writing prompt fills, fics from the two AUs I've written for them, and tons of quotes or poems that fit their vibe. I'd share a playlist but I don't have a playlist... there are five now T^T BYE!! 💗

[starrysnowdrop]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #21: Shade (#29 Make-up)

Noun: a specter or ghost. Greek Mythology, Roman Mythology; one of the spirits of the dead inhabiting Hades.

During the events of 6.0; While the Ilsabard Contingent struggles with helping the surviving Garlean people, a strange woman is seen roaming the city ruins.

Brief mentions of @traveler-of-light’s WoLs Astrid and Arslan

As Hali continued to follow Jullus around the desolate ruins of the Garlean capital city, all the while shivering in the harsh, unforgiving cold, the lalafell struggled in vain to keep warm, despite wearing multiple layers of clothing, including the fluffy, white fur-lined pink coat Tataru had made for her. Hali thought she had been accustomed to the cold by now after all of her time spent in the endless winter of Ishgard, but as Cid had explained to her all those years ago, even the coldest Coerthan blizzard could not have prepared anyone for the utter inhospitable cold of Garlemald. She didn’t believe him then, as she chalked it up to mere exaggeration. But oh how right he was.

As the blistering winds blew around her, almost blowing the tiny lalafellin woman right off her feet and into the snow, she saw a black shrouded figure moving in the distance, slowly walking through the debris of fallen concrete walls and broken steel beams.

“Wait, is that a survivor over there?” Hali asked Jullus as she stared at the person, who looked like an Auri woman from her perspective. Upon further examination, their scales were nearly as black as their cloak, a Xaela… and so far from the Steppe. The only Xaela that should be in the area are her friends Astrid and Arslan, and also all of those of the Ilsabard Contingent, and they should all be back at Camp Broken Glass. It was such an odd sight that Hali had to do a double take.

“Hmm? Where?” Jullus looked up from the broken down Magitek armor he was inspecting.

“Over there!” Hali pointed towards the figure, who had glanced back at them with a blank stare. All that Hali could see was two piercing eyes whose green limbal rings shined brightly in the surrounding darkness.

“Could it be…?” Jullus inquired under his breath, but Hali didn’t pay attention to the Garlean’s reaction as Hali walked towards the woman.

“Hello there! Do you need help?” Before she could catch up to her, the woman turned and began to quickly walk away. “Hey, wait a minute!”

The lalafell ran to the woman, but when she rounded a pile of steel beams, the Xaela seemed to completely vanish from sight in an instant.

With confusion clear on her face, Hali turned around and saw absolutely nothing. “Huh? But they were right here! Where did they go?” She looked down and didn’t even see any footprints in the snow indicating where the woman would have retreated to. The lalafell looked back at Jullus, who was just as confused as she was, but he didn’t seem as spooked by it as she was either.

Jullus shrugged his shoulders as he replied, “Heh, seems she disappeared once again.”

“She who?”

With a sigh, Jullus looked down at Hali and began to explain. “Several of us have spotted a strange woman in a black cloak wondering around the streets, and as soon as she is spotted, she will disappear right where she stood.”

“Huh? So this has happened multiple times already? But do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Well, I know it sounds absolutely preposterous, but the same sight has been reported by about a dozen soldiers and civilians alike. And that’s not the strangest part.”

Jullus glanced over at the large, imposing, otherworldly tower where the Imperial Palace once stood proud and strong as he continued, “Some have given the exact same details of a figure like the one we just saw: a young woman with features of a Xaela, an Au Ra from the Far East with scales as black as night, and eyes that shine with a bright green glow. The exact same features as the woman whose been rumored to be Emperor Varis’ mistress.”

As soon as Jullus mentioned the Emperor’s name, it all came into focus. She was the Xaela woman who had accompanied Emperor Varis to the meeting with the Eorzean Alliance before the Battle of Ghimlyt Dark, who had spouted the exact same rhetoric as His Radiance had spoken of, and then the name finally came to her conscious mind.

“Persephone?!” Hali asked with a alarmed expression.

“Oh, so you have heard of her then.”

“I have met her once before… but I had no idea that she had survived the civil war.”

Jullus shook his head and shrugged his shoulders once more. “That’s what is so strange about it though. It was reported to Lord Quintus himself that the Lady Persephone had died in the palace shortly before the fighting broke out in the capital. So what is it that we’re all seeing? A frightened survivor? A woman turned monster? Or even a shade?”

With a shiver that Hali couldn’t distinguish as a result of the cold or of fright, Hali pulled in her coat closer to her, and decided to lighten the mood a bit as the two begun to walk back to find Alphinaud and Alisaie. “A ghost floating about the ruins? Well, I’ll be sure to warn Alphy. Heh, I can’t wait to see the look on his face!”

Persephone’s Blog: Coming Soon!

[eemamminy-art]

hc + 🚗 for a transportation headcanon pls!

Since there are cars in garlemald there's a non-zero chance that Zenos had a driver's license and I want to think he was so exacting and terrifying with his instructors. They'd all be afraid to fail him because he's the crown prince and also pretty well-known for being a living weapon masterful swordsman since childhood so each instructor he's given tries to just pass him through without any criticism.

... Failing to realize Zenos is also kind of a turbo nerd. They pass him and he's like "Wrong. That maneuver violated four different laws. Now, the real question at hand is whether you are incompetent, lazy, or intentionally trying to sabotage my lessons?" and then the instructor mysteriously disappears and he gets a new one.

For a maybe more lighthearted headcanon, I loved how in FFXVI Clive had a specific chocobo (Ambrosia my beloved) and I like to imagine people in Eorzea have bonds they develop with their chocobos too! Like imagine if Haurchefant's black chocobos he raised all had names, or like he knew the names of all the chocobos he raised who were given to various Lords in Ishgard? 🥺 it would be so cute... I know the player can do that for their wol, name their chocobo and imagine a relationship between their character and their steed, but it's so fun to imagine it for the NPCs too!!

Thematic headcanon ask meme

[myreia]

— B A S I C S

Name: Aureia Malathar Nicknames: Aur Age: 28 at the start of ARR, 38 in 6.x. Nameday: 30th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon Race: half-elezen (wildwood), half-hyur (midlander) Gender: female [she/her] Orientation: biromantic asexual Profession: warrior of light, battlemage-for-hire, former spy/operative

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: black with red streaks Eyes: red Skin: pale Tattoos/scars: arcane brand burned into her back

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Elgara Theorzen (deceased, killed in Bozja), Ariv Theorzen (deceased, killed in Garlemald) Siblings: Kallias Theorzen (twin brother), currently alive Grandparents: deceased, names unknown In-laws and Other: married Thancred post-5.0. (impulsive decision, definitely happened too soon), considers Ryne her daughter, considers Urianger her brother Pets: Filo (chocobo), Nox (carbuncle), Castor (white whittret), Nutkin (nutkin)

— S K I L L S

Abilities: DRK/GNB | WHM/SGE | RPR/DRG | MCH | BLM/RDM Hobbies: botany (she's not good at it), training & learning new combat techniques, hiking, wandering in busy cities and taking it all in, river boating, collecting weapons, collecting earrings & rings, magical research

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Traits: determined, self-assured, inquisitive, compassionate for those forgotten and those left behind, loves fiercely and deeply Most Negative Traits: reckless, impulsive, selfish, abrasive, doesn't trust easily, prone to keeping secrets

— L I K E S

Colours: black, dark red, dark blue, silver Smells: the woods after rainfall, pine, the smokiness of a good campfire, saffron, a hint of citrus, the spice of street food in a busy market Textures: supple leather, polished wood, soft snowfall Drinks: tea, coffee, lemon water, orange juice

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: no Drinks: formerly yes, became an alcoholic in Stormblood, is now in recovery and doesn't drink Drugs: no Mount Issuance: Filo accompanies her almost everywhere; she has an amaro on the First (currently unnamed names are hard); occasionally rides a motorcycle or drives another vehicle; when she wants to show off, she shows up on a firebird Been Arrested: yes (several times) 🙃

Tagged by: @ardberts thank you!!! 🖤✨ Tagging: @birues @ishgard @wind-up-nhaama @roguelioness @tsunael @ahollowgrave

[bunsandstuff]

Lady Alsene Foutuveaux

Warrior of Light

OOC: Hello! My name is Val, some call me Bean too. Thank you for stopping by my blog. It started off as a place for my buns, but these days I've taken a liking to writing about my WoL. Thank you for having interest! Info on her is below! (Also MSQ spoilers ahead)

Alsene Foutuveaux 25 | 15th sun of the fifth umbral moon | Sharlayan | RDM

- Early Life

She was originally born Alsen Foutuveax to her parents: X'veilhena and Trennont Foutuveaux. Her mother X'veilhena was one of Sharlayan's many gleaners, and it was through her work that she met Alsene's father Trennont, a Sharlayan researcher and archon. It was after this an a few years after that the two were bonded and had a son who they named Alsen. The boy had a few years of memories with his doting parents, but there was always something on the horizon, something the two of them were working feverishly toward, much to Alsen's annoyance. And one day, that seeking would take the pair to shores beyond, and thus was Alsen entrusted to the care of the Wilfsunnwyns. As time progressed and the moons they were promised turned into a year, Alsen became a permanent ward of the Wilfsunnwyn household. In Alsen's youth, the shy miqo'te became close friends with Moenbryda to the depth of being near siblings. By this extension did he become acquainted to Urianger as well, though with both as aloof as they were, their interactions were few in between. It was also Moenbryda who encouraged Alsen to become who he was, and thus transitioned and given the name Alsene by the same Roegadyn lass.

- Warrior of Light

Becoming Hydaelyn's champion wasn't in the cards, nor was becoming the Warrior of Light. After she got old enough and saw the ever growing threat of Garlemald creeping up through Eorzea, Alsene became tired of the Forum's inaction. Following in her parents' footsteps, Alsene took up arms and set out to lend her hand in the fight to protect Eorzea and all nations against the Empire's threat. And after coming into the power of the Echo and meeting the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Alene's long journey began.

- Relationships

Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn

Found Sister After being taken in by the Roegadyn's parents, Alsene and Moenbryda became very close. The two were nearly inseparable in their youth, and basically family. Up until Moen's passing, Alsene and her were in regular contact, gossiping and spending their little free time catching up with one another. Alsene still regards her as the greatest older sister she could have had.

Urianger Augurelt

Main Ship Despite not having much time to bond in their time in Sharlayan, the two grew closer after Alsene's introduction into the Scions. After one shaky hello, the two of them have retouched on their estranged prior friendship. After Moenbryda's passing, Alsene became more protective over Urianger given how much she knew he meant to her late sister. And in turn, little did she know, the elezen held the same regard for her. Making sure that his dear friend's sister did not come to harm. Their relationship is still unfolding and doesn't have a proper tag yet, but I will update it when I have a name!

Artoirel de Fortemps

AU ship During the main events in Ishgard, Artoirel and Alsene grew quite close. She aided him in learning how to help Ser Aymeric with restoring Ishgard. Their relationship began playful, but both of them knew that there is more lying under the surface. Even so, the Warrior of Light has a hard time accepting these feelings as a beacon to the people placing a strain between them. Their story is unfolding under the tag #Of Hearts and Oaths

And that is all for now. I will update this as more comes, but I appreciate anyone who has read this far! Thank you!

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔒𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴 :: 𝔽𝔽𝕏𝕀𝕍

Niqesse grew up in her families Manor in Ishgard. As a child she was often very sick due aether sickness. When she grew up Niqesse wasn’t able to use aether, till a turning point in her life that she didn’t understand. She was trained in different weapon types and magic, but couldn’t really master any of the weapon based arts without the help of magic later on. Her preferred weapon is the Scythe. Niqesse left her home after she reached adulthood to find more knowledge, specially forbidden knowledge. At one point she stayed a while longer in Gridania and happen to cross paths with the scions and found a crystal of light.

Razieloix was born into a wealthy family. He started his training to be a dragoon early on. As a young man he found the love of his life, Ithil. They got engaged right before Razieloix had to leave to fight in the Dragonsongwar. Back then he was already a skilled fighter, but after a longer encounter and being heavily wounded he got kidnapped by cultists who tried to summon a voidset into his corpse. The summoning went wrong and Razieloix wasn’t dead, he fought his way out leaving a trail of blood behind him, but something was wrong with him. The dragoon felt a change in him and lost his the memory of the coming days. Weeks went by before he returned to his home only to find it burned down, no one left alive. Razieloix fell into a raging frenzy and went on hunting and killing dragons. Who knows how long he did this till he returned to Ishgard and rebuild what he had lost, but now under the name Wrath de Lith.

Corveaux was found in a coffin by Niqesse de Nox, who got a tip to check it out from her friends Kyrie & Völundr. When the young noble opened it he awoke from his slumber. Not remembering who or what he was, the only thought on his mind was aether. He and Niqesse made a pact, he became Corveaux Noucins the butler of house de Nox and the Reaper Voidsent of Niqesse. He is also one Hellsent of a Butler.

Noctis is a proud son of Garlemald, who knew quite early what he wanted. He wanted to serve the Royal Family. Noctis trained long and hard to get where he is now. A Tribunus Laticlavius, stationed to serve under Zenos yae Galvus. This was not what Noctis imagined when he finally got his promotion. He is basically cleaning after Zenos…

[robynostornwyn]

Robyn Ostornwyn

Warrior of Light. Bulwark between worlds. Wandering vanguard.

There is nothing more important to her than protecting her family. She spent her childhood looking after her adopted siblings, Elio and Osk. They were separated during the calamity, hoping the others were alive but fearing the worst. Failing her duty, Robyn dedicated the rest of her life to protecting others in an attempt to atone for her failure. She learned the way of the Free Paladin, and stumbled her way into working with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. The rest, as they say, is history.

Falling in love with Y'shtola was unexpected, embracing the twins as her own siblings less so. Slowly her family grew and became her anchor and her strength. A wound sustained from a battle with a certain scythe wielder weakened her shield arm, so she has taken up the gunblade instead. Anything to keep moving forward unto the next dawn.

Elio found his way to Ala Mhigo, walking the path of the monk with Widargelt and helping him revive the Fist of Rhalgr. He joins the Ala Mhigan resistance, fighting on the outskirts where speed and agility are most needed. During a battle, he found himself fighting alongside a certain dragoon who seemingly wondered into the fray. A fast partnership formed between the two, and they were often deployed together on strike missions. And of course, their partnership quickly evolved into something far more romantic.

When Elio and Estinien found Robyn passed out on the battle field (due to crystal exarch related shenanigans), they both spirited her back to Ishgard for healing and a long overdue and very teary reunion. Elio stays by Estinien's side helping out the scions and all that entails through the final days and beyond.

When Osk was found to have a natural talent with white magic at a very young age, her older siblings did everything they could to allow her to learn and grow that talent. She was the only one of them to get any sort of formal schooling, and understood the sacrifice that was made to give her the opportunity.

After the calamity, she apprenticed under a chirurgeon, seeking to augment her magical ability with what healing science she could. Staying in and around the Twelveswood, she worked in hospital camps wherever needed - supporting though the war with Garlemald and the final days.

One day, a passing traveler seeking a nights refuge in their camp shared stories about the Champion of Eorzea. Of course stories of the fabled hero were popular tales, and often wildly exaggerated, but this traveler actually had a name for the hero of the tales - Robyn Ostornwyn.

Finally, years later, the siblings were reunited. Their hearts full, the pain and hardship they endured never forgotten but worth it to get where they are. Ready for their next adventure.

Forward unto Dawn.

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Hey, I'm E - and this is my blog dedicated to FFXIV, my OCs, and other works that inspire me. I've only recently started to get into modding and gpose, and am continuing learning as I go. Hope you enjoy!

OC tag

[fromtheladiesoflight]

Ladies' Profile: Khoride Borlaaq

Name: Khoride [Koh-reed-ay] of the Borlaaq (Ride [reed-ay] is an acceptable nickname, though only very close friends or cute women get away with making the "ride" pun.) Pronouns: she/her Age: 31 (as of Patch 6.55, The Coming Dawn, born April 15/16th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon in the year preceding Mirita's birth.) Origin: Xaela Au Ra Clan: Borlaaq Family members: Gorbeljin (mother), Berude (oldest sister), Orgelen and Orbei (older twin sisters), Khorijin Borlaaq (twin sister...But It's Complicated), Ystride Borlain (sister-by-choice...it's Also Complicated) Height: 190.2 cm/6’2” Preferred professions: RPR, BLM, DRK Aetheric alignment: Astral fire (Dark Knight questline & MSQ story spoilers from Heavensward forward follow from here. You have been warned.)

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Unlike her older twin Khorijin, Khoride's origins are not quite so mundane as to simply be born to Gorbeljin. Though her mother was not cruel to Khorijin--far from it, in fact--the stresses of growing up with the domineering, insecure Berude as a older sister in the face of Gorbeljin's mild unpopularity within the clan Borlaaq and strong dislike outside of it planted a seed of discontent in Khorijin, a side of her where all the feelings she repressed nourished and fed a voice within her. Coming to Eorzea only fed said voice all the more; learning of Gridania's racism towards Duskwights and only barely managing to save Foulques from a grisly fall and fate, the slaughter at the Waking Sands, Mirita being falsely accursed of killing Nanamo ul Namo, and the dispersal of the Scions each contributed in their own way, feeding and nourishing Khoride within Khorijin, but leaving her as a voice without a right to control the body she shared. Then, a chance discovery in the Brume granted Khorijin the power of the Dark Knight--and let Khoride finally speak her truth for the first time. In so doing, Khoride would both steer Khorijin down the path of the Dark Knight in the guise and name of "Fray", and then at nights whilst in Ishgard use Khorijin's body to further pursue blunt justice with the blade as the Void-Blue Dark Knight, savior to the common Ishgardian, protector of Brumelings, and bloody, terrifying nightmare to the corrupt clergy and nobility. Eventually, however, Khorijin would confront "Fray", and ultimately subdued her twin by force of arms; "Fray" herself simply fell into slumber before briefly rising to help Khorijin confront "Myste" in the wake of Garlemald's expulsion from Ala Mhigo and Doma.

Afterward, as Mirita, Khorijin, and Rija all managed to travel to the First in pursuit of the mysterious call that drew them there and knocked the Scions unconscious, "Fray" reappeared to them in full in Norvrandt, now taking the name "Khoride" as a merger of Khorijin's own name and Berude's, and manifesting the ability to properly inhabit her own body through sheer force of will and careful application of a prototypical "Living Shadow" technique before eventually finding a way to anchor herself into a somewhat malleable but less temporary form. By most appearances, Khoride appears to most as an “evil” Khorijin, with dark lipstick, eyeshadow, and a low, husky voice, but she is not so much evil as she is the full manifestation of the boiling wrath and emotions that Khorijin repressed for so long, and even now that Khorijin expresses much less openly. The most "dangerous" aspects of her behavior have been shaved away by time and maturity, but this still leaves a woman who gladly flaunts her strength, loves to fight, and is openly more sexual and domineering than Khorijin is, titling herself as a Devil Goddess as a mark of unabashed pride and pure domination over Vauthry, who proclaimed himself a god. However, for all her surface-level hedonism, bloodlust, crassness, and devil-may-care attitude, she is still very much like Khorijin where it matters--loving and caring towards those she holds dear, a fervent defender of the weak and downtrodden, and a fierce believer in justice even if if must be meted out by ones own hand.

Khoride is much like Khorijin in how she fights, but is far more heedless and reckless in certain aspects. While she is not careless in her actions, there is very clearly a bloodthirsty rush that she finds in fighting, and she will often tank powerful blows when she can get away with it, rarely fazed by the pain or power. When she closes, she most often slashes or burns, often channeling a Reaper's shroud to empower her blows or her spells and supplementing many of her physical attacks with flames. When she is fully ready to unleash her wrath, she is more than capable of unleashing Triplecast spells and physical attacks in tandem as either a Reaper or a Dark Knight, turning her into a brazen reflection of Khorijin's skills as a Red Mage.

[gatheredfates]

Tonberry - Tell a story of a time you were blinded by rancor! Is it still ongoing, did you act upon it, does it compel your actions?

Hi, my name is Sea, and I have a lot of thoughts about how utterly fucked up Ishgard is as a nation. I'm putting it under a readmore because there's a lot of dark topics involved (and I ranted a bit).

I've explored bits of it here, here and here, mostly through Elandervier's perspective, but when you actually look at the control enacted by the Holy See, perpetrated by members of the High Houses, it's honestly horrific. Here is a nation overseen by powerful factions ruled by men, in which those beneath them are granted power and prestige based on their politics, money and gender. If you are not rich, cunning or cruel, you will be fed straight into that war machine. Before the Warrior of Light, it didn't matter how 'good' you were or how hard you tried. Aymeric was a good man and still got a knife in his belly because there were people in Ishgard desperate to hang onto a world where a few powerful men held complete control. They wanted to keep doing whatever they wanted to populace so brainwashed by propaganda they didn't have time to see that the call coming from inside the house.

People see Garlemald as being the 'evil' militant faction and, while that is true, I think it comes at the cost of overlooking just how similar Ishgard was towards the dragons. In my opinion, there is so much environmental storytelling indicating young peasants were militarised and drafted into war whether they liked it or not — especially if they were hyur — and high society was strictly regulated to keep the status quo. Garlemald may have been upfront about its fascism but Ishgard has a lot of demons they still need to exorcise.

Both Elandervier and Alaice are products of that machine, and both deal with that in different ways. El is nothing if not rancor. She is the daughter of a middle-class house desperately trying to rid themselves of their Gelmorran roots, and her entire childhood was a lesson in abuse from a mother too frightened to break the machine if feeding her daughter to it make her more comfortable. She had to smile to lordling boys cruel to her because they were lordlings — because going against them was to be branded a heretic at best and a trip to the Brume at worst. At least those outside of Ishgard did not risk the Temple Knights enacting their 'justice' late at night because they were bored or looking for a bit of sport.

Her entire early life was a palatable pantomime. Smile like this, walk like that; why are you inspiring their ire, why are you cracking the porcelain? The well isn't fetid. The tart is sweet because there is sugar, just ignore the poison.

Because El wasn't originally from Ishgard she knew she'd never fit in, and the powers that be were happy to remind her if she thought to put a toe out of line. They called her strange and heckled her; they made fun of her and went out of her way to give her attention because they knew the result would be negative, even if their initial attentiveness was 'kind'. They knew they held all the power to rip what little comforts she had because they had the prestige and she had none, and they spared no effort to put her in place.

The difference is, El didn't want the prestige. She wanted to break the wheel. When they tried to take everything from her, she turned it on them and fled. Highborn fathers lost their pedigree sons born from pretty women offered to the machine and, though she knew others would take their place, she at least got hers.

The worst part was, even when she had established herself in Dravania, she still had people come after her. Sometimes they were mercenaries paid for by the high houses, sometimes they were the lords themselves... and sometimes they were women, children and peasants who equally left the city but had nowhere else to go. They learned of a witch in the northern bogs who practiced dark magic and figured their odds were better than the city that claimed to care and protect them. She'd have young girls fall at her door with wild eyes and swollen bellies because going back would be to face objectification and heresy for crimes committed onto them — not by them. The outrage was palatable, she wanted nothing than to rend them from the inside out, but she was one woman against an oligarchy.

It's an anger that is difficult for to put into words and cannot be levelled against a single person, even if she detests most highborn. El has the recognition that even those higher than her were at the mercy of those higher still, and she did not gain any luxuries by defecting. Yet it still influences her every action. She's compelled to violence and manipulation because they conditioned her to savour it. She makes herself malignant and unknowable because she's too traumatised to know who she really is. She might have escaped the machine but its teeth still mangled her limbs. It's hard to live with.

[redwayfarers]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well! was tagged by @galadae, ty for the tag <3 tagging: @anneapocalypse, @lavampira, @hythlodaes, @scionshtola, @fantasmagoriam, @euelios <3

“Listen, when Minfilia died, I thought–�� he looks away and rubs his eyes. “The world can go fuck itself for all I care, but I– he–” He shakes his hands around his head and hisses. “He’s my second chance at— at love, and if I ruin it because I’m a jackass–”  - defense

“You’re grossly overestimating my influence. Or maybe my liking of them.” Nika makes a face. “I wanna shoot half of them in the face. Member of the Heavensward, off you go. Annoying asshole, off you go. That’s a solid chunk of Ishgard’s nobility.” - 'ajde bar noćas budi mi drug

“Bah, you’re too prim and proper.” Nika puts a foot down. The heels echo in the otherwise silent room like a battle trumpet. It may be the drink he’s had, but his next words come out offensively shamelessly. “I like the way your collarbones look.” - (you) restless son

“Alright,” Artoirel says slowly, “but if there’s anything we, or I, can do to help, do not hesitate to say. I do want our relationship to be a positive one, even though my first impressions may have led you to believe otherwise.” Care to suck my dick? That would make me feel so much better . “I’ll be down soon, and I want to dress in peace, for fuck’s sake.” - crisis he didn't ask for but got anyway

“I bet,” Lucretia replies, with a hint in her voice that she understands what he’s hiding behind that little word. “Do Ishgardians have any board games?”  “Kill a dragon, maybe.” - how unreasonably in love i am with (everything) you (do)

“You’re afraid I’m gonna hate it or something? Is that why you sound like you’re a kid meeting your idol for the first time?” - (you) restless son

“That bad, huh?” He laughs, but it’s a choppy, insincere thing. “I suppose I am.” A moment of silence. “I’m just so fucking tired, Minfilia. I’m angry at Ascians. I’m angry at Garlemald. I’m angry at the likes of Teledji Adeledji. There’s only so many arrows I have for each of them. And only so much patience, too. Besides, fighting shit hurts. It’s hard on the body.”  - to (kick your feet) strive but never to yield

“Is something amiss, Nika?” Minfilia’s voice rings in close proximity, worried.  “I’d say our Warrior of Light has yet to let go of his anger for the Ascians,” Thancred supplies and Nika’s eyes open.  “If you of all people aren’t angry at them, Thancred, then what the fuck are you doing with your life,” Nika says and he would flinch at the way he says Thancred’s name, like venom. Thankfully, he does too.  “I am angry, Nika. But I don’t allow my anger to destroy the Rising Stones.”  “Instead you destroy your fucking liver–” - to (kick your feet) strive, but never to yield

Artoirel frowns. “This House relies on me. Aymeric relies on me. Sacrifices must be made.”  “I can learn to forge your signature and sign all your documents.”  “Without reading them?”  “Naturally. Formal speak annoys me.”  Artoirel drops his nose into Nika’s shoulder. “That is not how this functions and I am not letting you forge my signature.”  Nika huffs. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting a hobby. It’s not like my body lets me do jack shit these days.” - how unreasonably in love i am with (everything) you (do)

“That you are,” Artoirel says. He then turns all serious again. “How are you doing these days?”  “Me?”  “Yes. These recent events have been.. Tumultuous for all of us. Most of all for you.”  Nika frowns. “Losing people feels like absolute shit, Artoirel.” - cold nights in ishgard

He’s quiet for a long time. Long enough to get him on the bed, to get him under the woolen covers. Long enough to sit beside him and run a hand down his arm and have him lean into the touch like it’s a gulp of water in the midst of a drought.  “I’m scared, Mom,” he croaks, and buries his head in the pillows. “Gods save me, I’m so scared.” - defense

“My actual name’s Nikita, so you can call me whatever you want. I’m all three of these fuckers.” Nika shrugs and drops the pillow. - crisis he didn't ask for but got anyway

“Fine– I think you’re not only good at aiming, but also good- looking. Is it a crime in the Brume to be attracted to people?” Nika taps a nail against the trigger of his firearm.  “Not at all.” Hilda smiles. She walks over, the end of her weapon clinks against the metal of her tall boots, and she looks up at him. Her lips are full and red from the cold and her eyes shine in amusement and pleasure. “Join me for mulled wine later? Maybe a card game, if your pride lets you?” Nika huffs. “It’s not about pride, woman – but yes. I will join you for mulled wine. It’s stupidly cold in Ishgard.”   Hilda places a hand on his forearm. “I’ll make sure it’s all warm for you, Nika.”  - 'ajde bar noćas budi mi drug

“I get it.” Nika laughs, but it’s devoid of any amusement. “We’re similar, I think. It’s why we get along. We’re both fucked up right now, we can’t talk about it, so you overwork yourself and I annoy people. Should I go to Coerthas to chase heretics?”  - how unreasonably in love i am with (everything) you (do)

“Of course,” he taps the space beside him, “come, sit.” His heart wants to leap out of his chest, both easy and dragged down at the same time, and Nika thinks about the faded, long line on his face. Does she like men with scars?   It’s a useless inquiry anyway. She just asked for a song, not a love confession. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to give a love confession anyway. Because, Twelve preserve him, he is just a little bit in love with Minfilia. - does she like men with scars?

[housedeaubemarle]

(The Silver Tattler, Is. 10)

~~

“Darling Philomene, is Oudine quite alright?”

The Dowager Viscountess sits in her chair, as upright as always, sipping fragrant Ishgardian tea from a porcelain cup. A sumptuous tea service sits between her and her companion, complete with pastries, water biscuits and a generous wedge of good Ishgardian cheese to accompany the latter. One would think two highborn ladies whose ages totalled to about 130 turns would have smaller appetites than the amount of food warranted - one would be mistaken.

She looks at the older lady before her whose face is full of concern. Seeing as it's her sister-in-law, Perette de Hellyes, as lovely a soul as one could hope to meet, it is genuine.

So she sighs. “Perfectly fine, dear. If the Viscount de Aubemarle hasn't enough sense to keep her name out of tawdry publications, she at least has the wherewithal not to let it trouble her.”

Perette nibbles a madeleine delicately, as the concern is replaced by some relief. “Domin and I had been rather worried - this is the first time we've heard our niece being spoken of in such a manner.” She waves a hand encircled by a jadeite bangle airily. “Not that we really believed you would countenance a match between her and the Losstarot head, fond as you are of those young men.”

Philomene snorts. “Fond, indeed. When have I ever given the impression I was fond of them?”

“Well dearest, you must admit: giving away opportunities to be introduced to members of the ton after just one meeting is a hint if nothing else. And have you not been quite kind to them in public?”

She sniffs. “My generous daughter wouldn’t have heard of anything less. As it is the wish of the viscount, I must do my duty as a member of her household.”

Perette grins, knowing full well the Dowager’s peculiar way of expressing affection: denying it utterly in words but showing it in contradicting deeds. “Such an obedient Aubemarle, my love. I am proud of you.”

Philomene gives her a look before returning to the previous topic. “Well, regardless of my… fondness, if you insist on calling it that, I will not have my darling girl be shackled to such an inexperienced innocent. Lord Joshua is yet to be fully tried in our crucible since the ton has been more concerned with his older brother on the whole. Now they will be paying more attention to him; it ought to be a worthy learning experience.”

Perette's eyes twinkle. “That cannot be the right description for someone who has been through a Garlean invasion.”

Her sister-in-law shakes her head. “There are different wars fought here, as well you know. Garlemald quakes before the judgement of Ishgard's beau monde.”

The ludicrous statement makes Perette laugh, even as she understands the sentiment. “And have you considered that Oudine may have her own plans? She is more than of age, and can make her own decisions without your approval – a union with Losstarot is not exactly that poor a prospect.”

Philomene arches an eyebrow at her. “Perette my love, only you may say that to join hands with a man of that house is not a poor outlook.” She takes another sip, and shakes her head. “Whichever bride Lord Joshua brings into that family is going to need a stomach of iron to confront such an unsavoury history, to say nothing of the veritable wealth of rumours.”

“And if Oudine should find herself in love at long last?”

This gives the Dowager pause, but only to set her teacup down and laugh. “Love! My daughter and Joshua de Losstarot!”

“I don't see why you should scoff so,” protests Perette. “From what I see, he is as eligible a bachelor as any! A steady young man with clear ambition, and rather good looking too. Not quite as handsome as the older brother, but certainly features one may appreciate even up close.”

“Fury love you, sister,” replies Philomene with some incredulity. “Would you marry Lucinne- no, stay; of course you would. She chose Felixient and you agreed.”

Perette shakes her head. “Now really darling, Felixient is a lovely man.”

“Oh yes, and without a single sensible thought in his pretty head, even after becoming a father,” says Philomene dryly and without hesitation. “It says much that your featherhead of a son-in-law is, by leaps and bounds, more acceptable than either of the Losstarots as they currently stand. It will take a few more turns before the reason they had to be reinstated even begins to fade into obscurity.”

Perette's amusement, in spite of this (long-familiar) abuse of her son-in-law, is written all over her face. “And that is your only objection if Oudine should wish to marry Lord Joshua? His current standing in society?”

Philomene narrows her eyes at her. “Perette, what has my daughter said to you?”

Perette immediately raises a hand in surrender. “Absolutely nothing, I promise you faithfully.” She sighs. “I merely think it would be nice to see Oudine in an actual romance for once. The poor dear has never found anyone who suits her. Not that she’s had any head for it in recent turns, understandably, but nonetheless…”

Philomene snorts. “She could if she would but listen to good advice.”

Perette gives her sister-in-law a wry smile. “All your dossiers and reconnaissance have yet to bear fruit, I take it.”

The Dowager rolls her eyes. “Stubborn girl.” But the words have no real critique in them.

“Well,” says Perette, picking up a biscuit and the cheese knife. “Perhaps it's for the best Oudine hasn't actually lost her heart to him. Apparently the younger Losstarot was seen stepping out with a mysterious woman some mornings ago; not too long after sunrise, as I’ve understood.”

A silence falls as she cuts a small corner of cheese to spread on her biscuit.

“He what.”

Perette immediately looks up, cheese forgotten. The Dowager's posture has gone more still than earlier, and from afar it would have been nothing remarkable.

But Perette has known her for well over thirty years, and can tell the glitter in Philomene's dark brown eyes is one of utter displeasure. The twitch of her lips is also tellingly unhappy.

“My dear one, you just said-”

“I am aware, love. He what?”

The thought that she may have spoken carelessly crosses her mind rather too late. Perette sets down the knife. “Now darling, it’s all just talk – I heard from one who heard from another and so on and so on. You know how it works,” she says soothingly. “It’s nothing certain at all.”

Philomene does know how it all works, which is why her frown is relentless. “And where did you hear this uncertain whisper from?”

Perette lets out a breath. “My dresser happened to mention it – with all good intentions, to be fair to her; the Tattler also reaches the Foundation after all, and she'd remembered the name of Losstarot.”

The Dowager closes her eyes in consternation, very nearly trembling with indignation. Pity and gossip from a lowborn woman because a prospective suitor has (apparently) moved on within mere suns – suns! – of (allegedly) courting Oudine: her precious girl, treasure of her years, only daughter of herself and Vouloix de Aubemarle.

How dare he.

From the far reaches of her (unjustified) mental outrage, she catches Perette’s voice. “Darling, it is most likely all a falsehood. Besides, you just said there is no possible chance of Oudine ever marrying him. Why in the Fury’s name should this bother you so?”

“Because!” snaps Philomene, and her eyes open at the same time. “It subjects her to the mortification of even more vulgar rumours! The cheek of it – waltzing with my daughter and then stepping out with some common woman?”

Perette is quite used to these wild mental leaps but this is a particularly tricky labyrinth. Still, she tries to keep up. “Philomene, we have no idea who this woman is, common or otherwise. And I really do think a man ought to be free to converse with anyone he pleases – goodness, where would anyone be if one waltz shackled us forever to conversation with that singular individual and only them? It would be lunacy.”

“That is not what I meant!”

Perette blinks. She has a vague clue what Philomene does mean, but can’t quite parse it. She settles on something more sensible. “At any event, I hardly think he set out to offend – and again, if it’s true which it well may not, did you not also just say he is an inexperienced innocent in the ways of the ton? He’s hardly a rake, from what I can tell – it’s unlikely to be anything but a simple misunderstanding. How could he possibly know a mere walk might be twisted into anything more?”

“Well, he should!”

A deeply hidden part of Perette wants very much to laugh at this farce, and particularly at the petulant tone her sister-in-law has taken. Yet any outward show of humour at this point would probably result in an unfortunate incident involving the butter knife. So she quashes the impulse and turns all her energy to calming down the tempest which has arisen. (And also discreetly moves the knife closer to her side of the table).

“My dearest Philomene, one of your best qualities has always been your maternal devotion to Oudine. I know you desire nothing but the very best for the dear girl. The offense is only natural, to be sure.”

Philomene breathes in, and out. That much is true.

“And if anyone so much as forcibly plucks a hair from her head, I am assured you would go to war with them, be they ever so highly placed as the count of Durendaire, or as dangerous as the Tribunal's inquisitors themselves. So what is the lord of an old, noble and recovering house to you?”

That is also true.

“No one, my love, could doubt your affection for your children. None at all.” Perette refills Philomene's cup. “But you know, my dear, your dedication sometimes overwhelms you, understandably of course. Yet I know you are far too sensible a woman to let it overtake you for long. You must remember your health, dearest, lest you be overwrought – we are not as young as we used to be, after all.”

Philomene finally lets Perette's calming – almost cooing – tone settle over her, relenting enough to even drink the fresh cup of warm tea.

“There now,” says her sister-in-law, still employing her mollifying tone. “Isn't that better? Now we may think comfortably.”

She gives Perette a look. “You are not entirely subtle, sister.”

Perette just beams. “Which is just as well since I had no such intentions.” She picks up a madeleine and places it on Philomene's plate for emphasis.

Philomene, in spite of herself, breathes in and out. “Well. After the service he has rendered, one supposes Joshua de Losstarot may be given the…” she sips her tea again, as if to swallow her feelings, “benefit of the doubt, in the face of… admittedly baseless, vulgar hearsay.”

Perette keeps smiling. “Precisely. An eminently more reasonable approach, I say. You've met the young man more often than I have, so you would know far better than any rumour monger, of course.”

“...well, I can’t say I know him all that well,” says Philomene slowly, allowing herself to be convinced by this notion. “But certainly I know enough that he is not inclined to even dally with women, much less keep a mistress hidden somewhere.”

“There you are then,” says Perette, patting her on the hand. “I’m sure they mistook him for someone else. White hair and grey skin are so common these days after all.”

Philomene’s cup rattles a little more than it should on its saucer, but Perette’s tone is perfectly empty of any implications. She does mean what she says.

So the Dowager merely reaches for the madeleine and bites into it, as her sister-in-law takes the opportunity to change the subject.

~~

“Ah, my son, what a rare pleasure to find you home for a change.”

Remont looks up from where he’s been perusing a journal in the study. He immediately places it back where it’d been on the shelf and strides over to his mother. “My dear Mamma, you talk as if you want me tied to your apron strings.”

She takes the arm he proffers with one hand, while the other holds onto her habitual walking stick. An eyebrow is raised in his direction. “Can you deny that we’ve not had you at our dinner table for the past ten suns?”

“Now madam, it’s easy enough to confess I haven’t been there. Yet do consider how five of those ten have been spent out socialising alongside you and the viscount,” says Remont with an easy grin as he leads her to an armchair. “And I distinctly recollect being in the same carriage as you, both to and fro on at least three of those five occasions.”

The Dowager snorts, though the smile is evident. “At least you have such grace to admit the other two did not see you return with us.”

He stands in front of her, still smiling amusedly. “I’m a wretch and a scapegrace, but not a liar.” He adds, before she can open her mouth, “As much as I can help it.”

She gives him a look, putting both her hands on the topper of her cane. “Hmmph. You have your father’s silver tongue.”

“As precious a gift as his name,” he says, with evident sincerity. It mollifies his mother enough to employ a softer tone.

“Remy my dear, I’ve heard some things from your aunt this afternoon. I should like your opinion on them.”

He bows in assent. “They are yours as best as I may give them, ma’am.”

“It involves your sister in some capacity.”

Only a sharp-eyed mother would have noticed some of the casual ease disappear from his posture, though he manages to keep himself quite relaxed overall. “Oh?”

She looks him directly in the eyes, and it is like looking into her own, which makes it easier for the question to emerge: “Has she a tendre for Lord Joshua?”

Remont is genuinely taken aback, staring at her in such shock that the question seems thoroughly answered. Nonetheless, she waits for him to gather himself so she might have solid confirmation.

“My lady mother,” he says at last, feeling like he’s just climbed over the Coerthan mountain range without benefit or aid of magic or mount. “What, in all the names of the divine Twelve, gave you that impression? You cannot still possibly think the Tattler was entirely correct.”

“I was given that impression, dearest, by your aunt asking me that exact question.”

Remont shakes his head. “Dear Aunt Perette, always on the lookout for her niece and nephew’s potential soulmates.”

The Dowager raises an eyebrow. “As am I, for my own children. Thus I must ask directly since subterfuge is beneath us.” Such a blatant mistruth and his accusatory stare bounces off her.

He sighs. “No Mamma, Dine doesn’t fancy either of our cousins in such a way. She has become very attached to them both, and would seek their good and happiness, but it is no tendre.”

“And she has told you this?”

Remont looks at her despairingly. “Mamma, will you not ask her yourself rather than doubt my word for it?”

“I will not subject your sister to such embarrassment when she has so many other concerns to deal with.”

“And I am worth subjecting to this embarrassment? Have I no other concern?”

The Dowager does, in fact, love her son very much, for it is only a real mother’s affection which could offer, in as dry a tone as could be mustered: “My dear child, when have you ever been embarrassed in matters of the heart?”

“I could start!”

She gives him a wry look so devoid of belief, it should have been immediately hauled into the Tribunal for interrogation and executed for heresy.

Remont throws his hands up in exasperation. “She hasn’t told me in so many words, but it is clear to see, Mamma. Dine has no intention of setting her cap for them, and the feeling is mutual.”

“Alright, then tell me this: has either of those boys any serious intention of courting anyone this season?”

Her son goes from exasperation to bewilderment. “I… I honestly couldn’t tell you. Mamma, why would you be remotely interested in the matter? Are you thinking of adopting them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; one son is more than enough.” She huffs. “My lord Joshua was allegedly walking out with a young woman of unknown origin soon after the Tattler was published. Just after dawn no less. Your aunt’s own dresser brought the news to her.”

Remont can feel a laugh rising dangerously to the surface. Oudine had told him about her pre-breakfast, not-quite-rendezvous with Joshua. She's going to screech at this unexpected development. “R-really now? Did she say what the young woman looked like?”

“No, she did not,” says the Dowager with a more pronounced scowl. “Hence my question to you, as one who has spent far more time with my lord than I have.”

Remont keeps his hilarity down admirably. “I assure you, Mamma, if Joshua has any, ah, particularly close connection, it is not known to me. Nor, I’d wager, to him, considering how he has little real interest in the matter.”

The Dowager’s eyebrow rises higher. “Is he not the one who keeps speaking about the future of his house?”

Remont smiles helplessly. “It doesn’t quite translate to courtship nor its success.”

“Hrrrmph.” She taps her fingers on her walking stick, looking away from her son and at the fire crystals in the hearth, thinking and digesting the new information she’s received. Remont stays quiet, watching his mother’s face.

“Your sister has always hated being the subject of gossip, yet she has handled this without complaint,” she says eventually, thoughtfully. “Outwardly at least.”

“She’s bearing it gracefully, yes.”

The Dowager looks back at him. There is concern mingled with sharpness in her eyes. “Yet she’s not as inured to it as you and I, my son. I don’t know what you’re both scheming, but for my sake, have a care.”

Remont blinks. “What could we possibly be planning, Mamma?”

She snorts, as she pushes herself up from her seat, using her walking stick. “I hardly know. Call it a mother’s instinct, if nothing else.”

He looks at her for a moment, then breaks into a fond smile, and stepping closely to her, kisses his mother on the cheek.

“Thank you, mother mine.”

The Dowager gives him a look. “And what have I done that's worth such thanks?”

“Why, for giving us life of course. Is that not what you’ve constantly reminded us?” he says with a grin. It becomes wider when she swats him on the shoulder, in quite the same way his sister often does.

“Impudent boy,” she says, though she smirks. “Are you staying for dinner?” When he nods, she smiles in satisfaction. “I will see you and your sister then.”

He bows and watches her leave the room, walking stick softly thudding with every other step. When he’s left alone again, he lets out a sigh, sinking into the armchair she has vacated. He does not look forward to if and when the Dowager discovers the other piece of gossip Oudine is planning to manufacture. Then he pictures Joshua's face when he finds out yet another rumour - now with his specific name in it - is spreading and chokes on a laugh.

“From no scandals to two in seven suns; Fury love you, Joshua de Losstarot…!”

-

End.